The Gift
by N. H. Moonshadow
Summary: The sight of Castiel slain, bound and broken to that chair, was the most horrifying thing Gadreel had seen in his long and painful life. (AU as of 9.03 No Angel)
1. Chapter 1

**The Gift**

The sight of Castiel slain, bound and broken to that chair, was the most horrifying thing Gadreel had seen in his long and painful life.

He thought he knew pain when he had first been brought in for punishment, his mate forcibly restrained to keep from coming to his defense when his sentence was first announced to the entierety of the Host. Their fledgling, the first born who hadn't been made directly by their Father's hand, had been taken from them, and his memories altered. He would remember his other parent vaguely, as a brother only, and no longer under his care, but Gadreel . . . all memories of Gadreel were to be erased completely. To keep him pure of the evil his parent had done, they said, to save him from corruption.

He wondered if any other fledglings had been brought forth after his failure. The thought had left a hollow ache within him.

He thought he knew pain when he had been told that his mate had fled Heaven after an attempt to free him. Apparently after arguing for his release, and failing, his loyal mate had tried to retrieve Gadreel himself, only to be swatted down violently by Michael and Raphael themselves, since no one else had the power to keep him at bay. Thaddeus had taken great joy with taunting him with the information even as he doled out a more physical type of agony. And again later, when it was said his mate had perished.

The following millenia of tourture, his fall, _none of it_ compared to this.

He had been resting in the back of Sam Winchester's mind only to be violently brought to awareness when his vessel was thrown and then rendered unconcious. The first thing Gadreel saw when he woke was Dean crouched over the limp body of a dark haired man, hands cradling his face. The older Winchester's voice was brittle in a way Gadreel would never have imagined.

"Cas? _Cas!_ "

Gadreel's eyes focused on the body, and it was then he truly saw who lay there. Even without the charcoaled impression of wings that should have been surrounding him, saw who he was. Changed though he was, _mortal_ though he was, he knew him, he had known him since his very creation, so of course he would know him even in death. Gadreel's decimated wings flared in shock, in recognition, and in the urge to shelter even though it came far too late.

He slowly climbed to his feet, his eyes never leaving Castiel.

 _His_ Castiel, long grown and now twice stolen away from him.

His fledgling.

Dean rose and took a step back. He turned to Gadreel then, wrecked and on the verge of tears, seeing only his brother and not the angel currently in control. "Sam, he's gone."

 _No._

No, he refused.

He strode forward on long, borrowed legs, filled with intent. A palm settled over Castiel's bared stomach, over the worst of the wounds and began to pour all the Grace he could spare without losing Sam as well. He knelt beside him as he worked, wings arching forward in protection, even if it was such a pitiful amount. Light flared as he healed the body and summoned Castiel back to him, called back that core spark that was unique among angels, the only one of it's kind. It was small and fragile, that tiny spark somehow stripped of the grace gifted to him by his parents.

And so Gadreel carved out another piece of himself and _gave._

 _ **Author's Note** : I'm so enamored with this fic, even if I don't know where the fuck it flew in from. I've long since learned to never argue with my muse. And let me tell you, she PUNCHED me in the face with this one, and refused to let me ignore it. So strap in kiddies, I'm about to brave tropes I've never touched and a pairing I've never dabbled with (and frankly have never found before). Here goes nothing._


	2. Chapter 2

**The Gift**

 **Chapter 2**

Sam wouldn't wake up.

Castiel was taking his turn, keeping a bedside vigil. He had taken up Dean's post after convincing him to at least make an attempt at getting some sleep. A promise that he would be fetched if his brother woke was what finally pushed him out the door and to his own bed. Though, knowing Dean, he had probably made a detour first to check on Kevin. Under stress, Dean always put others before himself, a trait that was simultaniously endearing and frustrating.

Castiel sat quietly in one of the more comfortable chairs that had been brought in from another section of the bunker, closely monitoring his friend's breathing. The steady rise and fall of Sam's chest was deep, even, and soothing, the rhythym of it echoed faintly by the weak ball of grace that dwelled at his center.

He had been so confused when he had first awoken after being butchered by his own blade, alive and with what felt like a portion of his own grace restored. No more than a fragment, a shard, but enough to give him some of his senses back. Dean had been hovering over a collapsed Sam, shouting, the younger Winchester's long limbs sprawled on the floor beside Castiel's chair, limp and unresponsive.

Castiel could tell at a glance that Sam was not alone in his own flesh.

Dean had come clean on the drive back to the Bunker, telling him everything. Castiel had been apalled at the angel's method of gaining consent, but as far as he could tell they had kept true to their word. Even though healing was currently beyond his abilities, Castiel could see where Sam had been mended, and how the angel was the only thing currently keeping the human alive. Angelic life suppost, Dean had called it.

Castiel remembered trying to heal the damage himself, before the last trial, before Metatron stole his grace, and remembered how useless it had been. This angel was honestly helping, in the only way he knew how.

But this was not Ezekiel.

Dean had been furious when Castiel told him that he didn't recognize this angel, that this wasn't actually Ezekiel. It took three full days for him to calm down, and even then it was only because he really was helping Sam, and had returned Castiel to him without being asked.

Castiel did not know what this unknown angel had done to restore what little grace he now possessed, but he was grateful. He still felt very human, still needed to eat, to sleep, but he had some of his stength back, and he could properly tuck his blade away and summon it at will. If nothing else, he was glad to be able to see creatures for what they really were, as it would keep him from making the same mistake he had made with April. He could see souls again, and the familiar shine of Dean's alone was a very welcome sight.

The angel was very injured, he had not lied to Dean about that either. He was injured and deeply scarred, the vast majority of the wounds far older than the Host's fall from heaven and running as deep as canyons. Between healing himself and Sam, and with how damaged they both were internally, the angel should not have attempted a ressurection, much less whatever else he had done to restore Castiel. He had nearly crippled himself in the effort, and was now directing all his energy into restoring Sam, leaving nothing for himself.

The angel risked burnout at this pace, and Castiel didn't know of his breatherin who would have done the same for a Winchester, himself excluded. None that were still living, anyway.

He had ideas and suspicions, many of them, but he had no solid conclusions. It was difficult for him to rely on his own knowledge of his siblings these days, as he could no longer be sure of himself. Heaven had been lying to him for his entire life, about orders, about God's Word, about the Apocalypse. The unravelling of his world had started with Uriel, and over time it only got worse. The civil war, his own brief rein of terror when he was not quite himself. Naomi had twisted him to her will most of this past year, and who knows how many times before, and Metatron had abused his trust and betrayed them all.

Castiel found himself absently touching his throat, as if to remind himself that it was whole and unmarked. As if he needed the physical reminder.

Ironically, the last angel to lie about his identity had been Gabriel, and he had sacrificed himself for the Winchesters and their bid to stop the apocalypse. Castiel couldn't help but wonder if Gabriel had known this angel, if he would have vouched for him. Sadly, there was no way to ask him now.

Regardless of who the angel was and why he was hiding, through his deeds alone he had made an ally out of the Winchesters, and now Castiel. He hoped that their tust wasn't misplaced.

 **oOoOo**

Out of respect for his vessel, and the unsavory method that granted him permission, Gadreel had made it a point not to pry into Sam's mind. Through overheard conversations and some stronger surface thoughts that were not eisily ignored, he had gathered that the Winchester's had a rather turbulent past. The brothers had both made some grave mistakes, and although Gadreel was curious, he had known better than to dig. He refused to go where he was not wanted, it simply was not his place. And so, he gave his vessel, his charge, as much privacy as possible, and had left well enough alone.

If he had been a touch more curious, just a little less respectful, then maybe he would have been more prepared when Sam found him where he had hidden himself, tucked away as he poured his remaining strength into the man.

It was little more than a curious brush of soul against grace. Nothing more than a small nudge with a finger to get someone's attention. A gentle prod and a confused _"Who are you?"_

Gardeel flinched at the touch, curling his essence tighter within himself, fearful of the reprecussions of his discovery. He barely had enough strength to maintain the slow and steady stream of healing, if he altered memories now the strain would be too great. Without his consent, his fears were projected at Sam, all of it tumbling out in a rush. _"Not yet, please, I made a promise, and you are not strong enough on your own. Not yet, not yet, not yet . . ."_

Suspition and caution bled into Sam's soul, and Gadreel worried he would be thrown out right then and there, that Sam knew what he was and would not stop to listen. Both Winchester brothers had proved stubborn and unpredictable at times. Gadreel didn't know what to expect, but he prepared for the worst and prayed that Dean would forgive him if it came to pass.

 _"Show yourself to me and we'll talk."_

Gadreel was caught between uncertainty and fear, but he knew if he didn't do as Sam asked, his eviction was assured. _"Very well. But I warn you, I have little strength to spare and cannot hold the image long."_

With great reluctance, Gadreel pulled from the grace healing Sam, doing so halted the process, but there was enough to maintain what had already been done. Using a fresh memory as the base, Gadreel wove the image of a motel room and gently drew Sam into the illusion, requesting his presence, but not demanding it. Sam allowed hilself to be led, his own conciousness creating a copy of his physical body. Gadreel thought it wise to use the visage of his previous vessel for this encounter, and allowed himself to enter as well, sitting heavily at the end of one of the motel beds.

Sam took in the room at a glance, eyes lighting up in recognition, and then his attention fell on Gadreel, eyes calculating. When he spoke, his voice was neutral, but his posture gave his tension away. "Who are you?"

"I've been going by Ezekiel." Gadreel thought it wise not to outright lie to Sam.

"But that's not your real name."

His shoulders drooped. "No."

"Okay, look. I know what you are. If you don't want me to throw you out on your ass right now, all I ask is honesty. Now, let's try again. Who are you?"

"My name is Gadreel."

"Gadreel, huh." Sam's arms crossed over his chest. "What are you doing in my head, Gadreel?"

It was such a direct question that required such a delicate answer. Suddenly Gadreel felt the full force of his accumulated injuries. Every ache, every throb of deep-seated agony, his depleted grace, it all left him feeling hallow and exhausted. But he gathered himself together forcefully and soldiered on, having no other option. "Please understand that I came only to help, and that I will depart as soon as it is safe to do so. Of this, you have my word."

"Safe for _who_ , exactly?"

"You are not as recovered from the trials as you were lead to believe." Gadreel straightened, meeting Sam's scrutiny with pursed lips and his hands came to rest on his knees. "Shortly after the fall, a prayer was broadcasted for all the host to hear. When I arrived, you were quite literally on Death's door, and your brother was desperate."

"Dean . . ." In clear frustration, Sam scrubbed his face with the heel of his hand. "God, I knew it, I knew it was too easy. Dammit, Dean!" He turned his focus back on Gadreel. "And how the hell did you even get in here? And here I thought angels were big on consent, even Lucifer."

"We are. I am. I . . . I am not proud of the means we used to gain your permission, but your brother was adamant." Sam startled as the room flickered around them, the walls giving a mighty shiver as Gadreel faught to hold the illusion together. "I'm sorry, but we don't have much more time to speak. I was weakened when I first came to your brother, and restoring Castiel took all the strength I had to spare."

"Cas?" Gadreel could feel the panic as the memory flowed through Sam. He couldn't ignore the twist of his wavering grace as he saw the reaper stab a gasping Castiel. Another horrid ache got added to his long list. Other emotions poured over him, all of it runoff from Sam, pure relief being the most prominent one. "You brought him back? Cas is alive? Did Dean ask you to do that too?"

His lips twitched in the faintest of smiles, sad but genuine. "He didn't have to."

"Thank you."

It was Gadreel's turn to be startled. The sheer sincerity and gratitude was overwhelming and it was all directed at him. He was unaccustomed to it, but he let it wash over him like a balm, soothing some of his more emotional hurts. Of all the humans he had come to aid, it was two who had befriended his Castiel. Who clearly considered him a part of their family. It was heartening.

"So . . . How long are we going to be sharing space?"

"I don't know. If I were at full strength I would guess it would me only a matter of days. A week at most. But as I am not, I am unsure. All I know is that if I leave now, you would not survive." The room flickered again, threatening to unravel, and Gadreel knew his time was up for the day. "Your memory will stay intact when you wake. Please don't be to harsh on Dean, his actions were rash, but he did them for the right reasons."

And with those parting words, Gadreel was forced to let go of the illusion as he fell heavily into oblivion.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam woke up, slightly dissoriented, but without he energy to do anything about it. He blinked at the familiar ceiling of his own room, lethargic and feeling like his whole body was made of lead. He hadn't felt like this since the trials themselves, just unbelievably drained, and thankfully without pain. But if Gadreel had been using himself as a buffer, pouring energy into Sam to keep him from feeling the damage inside of him, then that would make sense.

Sam could feel the angel, now that Gadreel wasn't hiding from him. Currently he was nothing more a soft pulse of warmth behind his ribs, keeping time to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Sam?"

Bleary eyes blinked and then tracked Dean's voice to the open doorway, small tray of food balanced in his hands. "Dean."

Dean was across the room in three long strides, hastily setting the tray on the nightstand. "Damn good to see you awake. How are you feeling Sammy?"

"Exhausted. But I'm fine." He swallowed, noting his tongue felt thick and his mouth was dry, but ignored it for now. "How long was I down?"

"Dude, you've been out cold for almost a week." Dean sat on the edge of the bed. "What do you remember?"

"Everything up to the reaper throwing me." And of course that train of thought led him straight to Castiel, and the sliver of worry that Gadreel had been lying. "Is Cas okay?"

"Cas is fine. Just finished chasing him and Kev out of my damned kitchen. Those two are worse than you when it comes to cooking. The blind leading the blind, I'm telling you." He started off jokingly, but since he was looking for it, Sam could see the moment when Dean was gearing himself up to feed Sam a story. He was still angry at him for lying, but he was too tired for a proper argument. So he cut Dean off at the pass, before he had a chance to dig himself a deeper hole.

"So, what happened is-"

"Dean, just stop. I know."

His brother ground to a halt mid-animation, and settled himself in a more gaurded position. "You know what?"

"About the angel I'm sharing space with."

The series of expressions that paraded across Dean's face would have been hilarious on any other day. He opened his mouth half a dozen times, whatever he wanted to say clearly lodged in his throat, refusing to come out. Giving a harsh, breathy sigh, Dean shook out his arms and then rubbed his palms together before giving Sam a beconing gesture, clearly bracing for the explosion. "Well, c'mon, lets hear it."

Sam sank a little deeper into his pillow. "You're an inconsiderate asshole."

There was a long pause before Dean realized he wasn't going to add anything else. "That's it?"

Sam huffed a laugh. "If you want a real throwdown you're gonna have to wait until I can safely stand without passing out. I'll even throw in extra punches if it'll make you feel better."

"So, what? You're not mad?"

"No. I'm fucking pissed, but Gadreel insisted I go easy on you. So, for once I'm going to listen to the voice in my head and play nice. I'll scream at you later."

Dean looked floored, and then leaned forward. "Gadreel? He told you his name is Gadreel?"

Sam nodded. His eyes kept trying to drift closed, but he tried to fight it for a little longer. "Said he'd been going by Ezekiel. Said he brought Cas back."

"Dude, he did more than that. Cas has some of his mojo back. According to Cas, the guy nearly burnt himself out doing- well, whatever the hell he _did_."

"Huh." Gadreel said he restored Castiel, so that must have been what he meant.

"Speaking of Cas, I'm gonna go let him know that you're up. Want me to grab you anything? You hungry? I threw a sandwich together, but I can scrounge up some soup."

Sam nodded and his throat chose that moment to reminded him that it was dry as the Sahara. "Water?"

"Water and soup it is. I'll be right back."

With that his brother disappeared into the hall, and Sam drifted back to sleep.

When he woke next, Castiel was sitting in a chair by his bed, idly turing the pages of an old tome, the paper rasping softly as he read. Sam guessed he'd been there awhile. It was only a few moments before his friend took notice that he was awake. Using a strip of ribbon to mark his place, the book fell closed and Sam was graced with a typical Cas smile, barely there but warm all the same. "Hello Sam. It's good to see you awake."

"Yeah, you too." Sam suppressed a groan as he sat up, scooting back until his back was against the headboard. His limbs felt a little less like lead, but a sense of extra weight was still there. He wondered if the exhaustion was actually his, or Gadreel's. Either way, Sam hoped it would pass soon. Once settled he was surprised to find a tray being placed in his lap. Sam blinked down at the tomato and rice soup, crackers and glass of ice water. "Um, thanks Cas."

The angel beamed as he sat back in his chair. "Dean said to give the tray to you when you woke up. I'm sorry if it's cold."

Sam hummed around his spoonful of lukewarm soup. "It's fine." He examined Castiel as he ate, glad he could see his friend with his own two eyes. Just like Dean said, Cas looked good. It was a bit odd to see him in jeans and what Sam thought was one of Dean's grey henleys, no bulky coat or blue tie to be seen, but he looked good. "Dean said you got some of your grace back."

"Yes." A firm nod followed the response. "But only a fragment. I can't heal, but my strength has returned as well as my vision. No offence, but human sight is so _limited_."

"None taken."

Cas cleared his his throat, drawing Sam's attention from his soup and crackers. "Dean said that you and the angel spoke directly. Are you certain his name is Gadreel?"

"Yeah, although I don't think he wanted to tell me." Sam finished the last of his soup, putting the bowl down and brushing cracker crumbs from his fingers. Sam picked up the glass and drained it in four deep gulps. "I didn't exactly give him a choice though. I threatened to kick him out if he wasn't straight with me, so I'm pretty sure. Friend of yours?"

Cas hummed as he stole the tray back and placed it back on the nightstand. "Given the circumstances, I would have to say he is now. Is he awake?"

"I don't think so."

Sam absently rubbed at his chest as he mentally poked at Gadreel. The warmth increased for two beats, before falling back to it's previous intensity. Sam wondered if he should be worried. The last time he played host to an angel was Lucifer, but that experience was the complete flip to the current one. Lucifer had been whole and healthy, and loved keeping Sam on the surface and aware, just to goad a reaction. Even in those few moments where Lucifer let him be, the archangel's very presence was burning cold and encompassing, swallowing him whole, and there was no pretending he was alone in his own skin. For Sam to be unaware of him until now, Gadreel must have been going above and beyond to stay out of the way and remain unobtrusive, injured or not. He was still pissed about the tresspass, of course he was, but this had to be the politest possession he had ever experienced.

"I mean, I can feel him, but that's it. I can tell he's there, but he's not being responsive. Is that normal?"

Cas frowned, peering at Sam's chest as if he could see right through him. Then again, his friend did just say he got his vision back, so that very well might be the case. "It's . . . unusual, but given the circumstance I suppose it's understandable. His injuries are extensive, and apparently he's been putting more effort into healing you than himself. What has he said to you?"

"Um, not a lot. Mostly that he was just here to help, and that he'd vacate the premises as soon as it was safe for him to do so." Sam settled back against the headboard, trying to recall as much as he could about their interaction. He remembered the initial contact and the instant recoil. "I think he's afraid," Sam noted, almost to himself.

"That's understandable as well, given his reputation among the host."

Now Sam _was_ worried. "What kind of reputation?"

"Sam, please undertsand." Castiel leaned forward, hands clasped together between his knees, fingers loosely woven. His face was pinched slightly, clearly conflicted. "I have never met Gadreel in person because he has been Heaven's prison since before Lucifer was first locked in the Cage. I don't remember much about it, I was very young when Gadreel was punished, you see. But the rest of the host, and my garrison in particular, were very open in their opinions on the matter. Gadreel's failure became a cautionary tale of sorts, and the angel himself a pariah."

A stone sunk to the bottom of Sam's stomach, making him regret eating so quickly. "What did he do?"

"He was the Sentry of Eden, the angel responsible for gaurding the Garden and God's prized creations. He failed in his duty and his single mistake cost humanity. There are those that claimed he failed on purpose, aided Lucifer even, but now I'm not so sure."

Sam stared for a few long beats as he absorbed that.

Once the thought turned fully, Sam couldn't help the laughter that erupted from him, clearly startling Castiel. A hand came up to drag across Sam's eyes before coming to rest over his mouth in a bid to contain himself. It didn't really work.

Cas had moved from startled to concerned. "Sam?"

All Sam could think of was _their_ reputation, both in the hunting and monster community. Their collective list of fuck-ups was long, and each mistake was almost more epic than the last, and was usually driven by good intentions. Mostly. Revenge occasionally. Selfishness rarely, but it's happened. There have been points where people they ran into blamed them for events long past, the opening of the Devil's Gate, the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, and their Leviathan doppelganger's cross-country killing spree just to name a few. They have been on Heaven _and_ Hell's shit list for ages, but they kept pushing forward regardless of what the world threw at them.

And here was an angel with a single mistake under his belt, who had been locked up since literally God-knows-when, helping them. Even when he knew what kind of reception he'd get if he encountered other angels, using a false name or not.

Finally able to contain himself, Sam turned to his friend, and in an effort to explain what was so funny, said, "If thats all, I think he'll fit right in."

 **Author's Note** :Another chapter to share with you fine people. I've been re-watching season 9 to keep my inspiration and to draft up some alterations that are going to be made to the timeline. Been ironing out the kinks and developing my head-cannon to keep the story consistent to itself.

Thank you to my readers for joining me on my tiny canoe of a ship! All aboard and bring your own paddles. Mine might be faulty. -Shadow


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"So. Any word from your roomate?"

Sam looked up from his cup of coffee to look directly at Dean.

His big brother had managed to herd all the bunker's residents together for a communal breakfast. Well, minus one demon, but who's counting? Kevin was already halfway done with his eggs by the time everyone else was served, and was already eyeballing seconds. Dean was currently setting a plate in front of Cas, who offered an indulgent smile before turning his attention to Sam, clearly interested in his answer as well.

Sam set his mug down. "Uh, no, not really. He's still not awake. Should we be worried? I mean, I'm feeling _great_ , so I would think he's feeling better too." He looked at Cas. "Right?"

"He should be, if he is splitting his energy evenly," Cas answered carefully.

Dean plopped down in his seat next to Sam. He stabbed a piece of bacon and waved it vaugely at Cas. "What makes you think he's not?"

"The fact that none of the damage done to his grace has healed. Nothing has improved." He picked up his own fork and began pushing food around his plate, contemplative. "Has Gadreel been responsive at all?"

Sam's lips tugged into a light frown. "No."

"Maybe the guy's in a coma, or something," Kevin piped up as he stole the last of the bacon. Dean gave him a sour look, but it was ignored.

Cas hummed around a mouthful of eggs and grabbed himself a slice of toast. "If he truly was in a coma-like state, then all the enrgy would be focusing soley on himself, not Sam. So it's not that."

A small tendril of worry curled in the pit of Sam's stomach, and he didn't know what to do with it. He was still adjusting to the fact that he was once more sharing space with an angel, but he also knew that they couldn't afford to loose any allies right now. Over the last few days he would occasionaly prod at Gadreel, much as he had when he first realized the angel's presence, but he was barely given a sense of acknowledgement before falling back into silence.

Even then, it was getting harder and harder to even get that tiny acknowledgement.

"Give him a few more days, I'm sure he'll be fine." Dean shrugged. "Not like we can tell the guy to stop if he's unconcious. Or whatever."

Cas breathed heavily through his nose, clearly unconvinced. He shared an unreadable look with Sam.

A thought came to Sam.

"Hey Cas, if Gadreel really hasn't been splitting his power evenly, what could happen to him?"

All eyes fell on Castiel as his brows furrowed. "If he is pouring as much energy into you as I think he is, then he risks a total burnout. If he keeps true to his word to you both, then he will leave before he does, for your sake."

The rest of breakfast was spent in awkward silence as they all read between the lines.

 **oOoOo**

The next day brought news of a possible angel with super-smite capabilities, that clearly needed handling. There was a short discussion on who was going versus who was staying. When Castiel illustrated just how unfavorably an angel would react if they recognized Gadreel, passive passenger or not. Sam reluctantly agreed to be benched. By mid afternoon Dean and Cas had the Impala loaded and off they went.

On the bright side, the hunt did provide Sam some much-needed space to really adress the whole Gadreel issue.

No matter how confident Dean was about the angel's wellbeing, Sam couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Worried that if he didn't step in, Gadreel might unintentionally kill himself in his efforts to prove himself to them. Sam decided that enough was enough.

He hit the library hard, digging deep into the archives for a specific type of summoning spell. For what he had in mind, the spell couldn't have any physical ingredients and needed to cause no damage to the one being summoned. That turned out to be a rather tall order, and it wasn't long before he had a large stack of tombs and scrolls that didn't fit the bill.

Eventually he found something that would work, less of a spell and more of a ritual.

As soon as he was sure Kevin was otherwise occupied, and would be for a few hours, Sam brewed himself some dreamroot tea and prayed the ritual would work under unusual circumstances.

 **oOoOo**

For the second time since their paths crossed, Gadreel was surprised by Sam Winchester.

He was pulled, gently but firmly, into a dreamscape of Sam's own making, using a type of pagan magic that Gadreel had a feeling had been abandoned for several hundred years. Some other means must have been used to give Sam enough cohearancy in the dream to utilize the spell properls. The method of demanding his presence was rather ingenious, and must have stemmed from some rather sideways thinking.

He had been aware of Sam's attempts to gain his attention, but his cowardice had kept him silent, his fear getting the better of him. Gadreel knew that by now Castiel must have informed the brothers of his history, or at least the version told to him by the rest of the host, and he could only imagine their current opinion of him. Of his imprisonment and his supposed crime and how welcome his help actually was now that they knew. The thought of Castiel, his Castiel, looking upon him with disgust and contempt . . .

Not being recognized for his true self was agony enough, but that might very well break him.

And so he had kept his silence and threw everything he had to give into his human charge, holding onto his vow to the Winchester brothers like a lifeline. He would restore Sam, as swiftly as he could, and then he would leave. If he should falter afterwards, then hopefully his fledgling would remember him a little fondly, at least for this deed if nothing else. He hoped it was enough.

With his family in ruins, it had to be enough.

But now Sam Winchester stood before him, framed by an impressively exact replica of the Men of Letters library, arms crossed and face stern.

"This has got to stop."

Still reeling a bit from the summoning, it took Gadreel a moment to realize what he meant. His heart sank.

He was being asked to leave.

Gadreel bowed his head, supressing the worry and fear that knawed at the edge of his thoughts. "Of course. I had hoped to have you completely healed, but I believe by tomorrow morning you should be able to survive on your own without risking deterioration." He would have to dig deeper still into his energy stores, maybe dangerously so, but Sam didn't need to know that. "You will live, but you will be weak. Please allow yourself time to fully recover before deciding to hunt. I will take my leave first thing in the morning."

"Wait, what? That's not what I meant at all."

"It's . . . it's not?" Gareel lifted his gaze, wary.

Something in Sam's eyes softened. The human sighed and rubbed a hand across his face before taking a seat at the library's long wooden table and gesturing for Gadreel to do the same. Gadreel slowly sat in the seat across from Sam, his whole body tense with unease as he no longer knew what to expect.

Sam examined him for a moment before he spoke again. "Look, I'm not trying to boot you out prematurely. Really, I'm not. But I _am_ telling you to ease up. According to Cas, you're just about as bad off as you were when we last talked. And according to Dean, part of this whole thing was to give you a chance to heal too."

"But I promised-"

"You're still keeping your promise. Really, you are. But you're not doing anyone any favors by damaging yourself in the process. Just take care of yourself too, alright? We've lost enough friends."

Gadreel just stared at him, rooted in place as that word rattled around in his mind.

"Are we friends?" he couldn't help but ask, half hoping, but nervous all the same.

Sam offered a warm smile. "I would like us to be."

It was a long, _long_ time since someone had been truley concerned for his well being. There had been Abner, when they had been imprisoned together, but that had been a slow build of trust spanned over a millenia. That friendship had only grown by lack of any other neutral or positive contact, and reinforced with consistency. It wouldn't have grown at all if Gadreel hadn't repetedly drawn Thaddeus' attention to himself and away from the younger angel. He hoped his friend had made the fall safely to Earth, but Gadreel doubted that Abner was looking for him.

The last people to genuinely care about him had been his mate, and his fledgling, and look where they were now. One held no true memory of him, and the other has been dead for eons. He sincerely doubted that the ache left by Gabriel's passing would ever fade.

That thought led him straight back to Castiel, and his hope crashed hard under the sudden onslaught of fear.

"Does Castiel share that sentiment? That we are friends?'

Sam stared at him in a manner that made him desperately want to know his thoughts, but Gadreel refrained. His mere presence was violation enough given the circumstances. Whatever Sam saw seemed to satisfy him, and so he eventually leaned forward on his elbows when he finally replied. "Yes he does. And so does Dean. So just take it easy, okay? And talk to me, there's no point in hiding if I already know you're there."

"I thought it prudent to allow you as much liberty and privacy as possible given that I'm more or less an unwanted guest."

"I appreciate that, believe me." A brighter smile now, flashing dimples and teeth, though the eyes were haunted. "Especially after the last angel I shared space with."

That bit of news was startling.

Angels always left a mark on previous vessels, no matter how careful they were with the bodies they inhabited. It was an unavoidable side effect that residual grace would be left behind. But Sam had no such imprint. As unbelievably damaged as he was when Gadreel first saw him, Sam's whole body had reeked of spellwork and puricication, but there wasn't anything remotely angelic about it.

Dean had informed him on that they had tried to accomplish with the trials, and Gadreel wondered if the complete erasure of angelic influence could have been a side effect.

"I was unaware you had been a vessel before."

"You're kidding right?" The smile faded. "You know, the Apocalypse? The whole 'Lucifer's True Vessel' thing?"

Gadreel felt suddenly chilled right down to the core.

His expression must have given him away, because Sam's brows shot into his hairline, hands tapping nervously on the table. "Oh, wow, okay. Wasn't expecting that. Story time it is then."

Sam began to talk and Gadreel learned exactly how much he had missed.

 **Author's Note:** I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season and that 2016 is kicking off on a good note for y'all! Many thanks for the follow/faves/watches and reviews, and special thanks to the lovely creature who brought an extra paddle! I'm looking forward to the journey that lies ahead, and I hope you guys are too. Cheers everyone! -Shadow


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

One of the worst things about being a prisoner in Heaven is the disconnect. The complete and utter lack of communication and acknowlegement. Angels are born connected to thousands of their breatheren, their voices a constant, comforting background noise even when you weren't actively listening. Once you are brought down to the cells, that is the first thing they strip from you. You are not fallen, but you are excluded from the Host, forcibly turned deaf to the choir, connected but isolated all at the same time. The silence was maddening and Gadreel had witnessed several angels fall victim to the insanity, especially the ones who refused to seek out the comfort of their fellow prisoners. The silence stemmed from Enochian sigils, which were usually engraved into the cell walls.

Gadreel had his carved deep into the marrow of his wings. Thaddeus had assured him that it had been his own idea, and had taken great pleasure in refreshing them every few hundred years, altering the sigils so healing them was agonizingly slow. Most of the flesh had yet to regenerate from their most recent reapplication only a few short years ago.

Prisoners were deliberately left in the dark regarding current events. Any time news filtered through was when Thaddeus knew it would hurt the most.

Word of Gabriel had been first, his sudden departure after his failed rescue attempt, and then later the rumors of his passing that had been handed to him as gospel. After that it was always words about Castiel. About how efficient of a soldier he had become. Loyal and unfaltering, so much so that he could be ordered to dispose of Gadreel and he would obey without any hesitation. Without question.

Then, much more recently, he was told of Castiel the Rebel. The Traitor. That even with Castiel's memory scrubbed clean of him, Gadreel had still managed to corrupt him, that their relation had cursed him to fall. Then more still of him stepping beyond his bounds, slaughtering angels by the dozen. The stories were endless and terrible and completely without context, but Gadreel clung to the belief that the stories were exaggerated.

Sam Winchester told him everything, giving him the whys and hows of those stories, accidentally sharing memories when the emotions attatched to them were too strong.

It was asounding how much had happened, how much he didn't know. The last decade seemed to be a continuous avalanche of bad decicions, most born from the best of intentions. The Winchesters and Castiel had been in the thick of it right from the beginning, pushing through tremendous odds and forging their own way forward. Through mistake after mistake, and lie after lie, they kept going and Gadreel ached for them all.

And then Sam spoke of accidentally finding Gabriel, his Gabriel, hiding as a pagan god. For just a moment Gadreel's hope soared. The image of him was crystal clear in Sam's mind, of a man with a slight body, an impish smile, and golden eyes. Oh Father, how Gadreel wished he could reach out and _touch_ , but this was just a memory and Sam wasn't finished with this part of his story yet. Sam told of his wayward attempts to help, before the Apocalypse and then during, and then of Gabriel's wish to just have everything over, of insisting that the fight between Michael and Lucifer was inevitable.

And then Sam spoke of Gabriel coming to their rescue, resulting in a direct confrontation with Lucifer. Sam must have felt strongly about that day because the memory of it flowed freely between them, painted with sorrow and regret. Most of it was from Sam's own experience, of Gabriel bursting in, blade at the ready to defend Sam and his brother. But the last bit was from Lucifer, as one of the memories he used to break Sam down.

The image of Gabriel seared between them, vessel bloody and sprawled across the floor, imprints of charcoaled wings spread wide.

Gadreel's hope shattered like a dropped glass, his whole world grinding to a halt.

He had mourned his mate once already, but it had never been solid, never set in concrete. All he had was the word of others, and while he had believed them, there had been no proof that what they said was true. He had felt the agony, but had coveted the tiny possibility that maybe, _just maybe_ , they had been wrong. It wasn't like he ever expected to be free to discover what happened, he never thought he'd escape his cell at all.

But he had hoped.

And here he was.

Now he knew for sure that Gabriel would never return to him.

So overwhelmed by grief, Gadreel wasn't aware of dispelling Sam's tightly controlled dream, lauching his charge back to the waking world as he coiled tightly into himself in an attempt to disappear.

 **oOoOo**

It took a full two days for Sam to catch Gadreel up the their current situation. It was easier to keep track of his tale when he spoke aloud, and so he talked and Gadreel kept close to the surface as he listened.

The story was shared during the course of the day, stopping mostly for sleep and any daily necessities that required the illusion of privacy. Also, meal breaks. Although that only happened after Kevin teased him about talking to himself when _he_ was supposed to be the crazy one. That prompted a whole slew of questions directed at Kevin. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending how you looked at it, Gadreel refused to come forward enough to pose the question himself, instead using Sam as his mediator. Which was fine up until Kevin started asking questions _back,_ and some of the answers Gadreel gave were long and involved.

Sam was glad that Gadreel wasn't making any assumptions regarding Sam's comfort level regarding handing over control to his whole body, but he also felt a bit bad restricting the angel's interractions with others.

From what he had gathered from his own observations, some friendly conversation would do Gadreel a world of good, but Sam wasn't ready to hand over that kind of control just yet. Plus, anything that kept Kevin from feeling a little less stir-crazy was a win in his book, so he continued to play middle man without complaint.

Although that was hardly the number one reason for the slow story telling. It was hard to make progress when the one listening would check out at certain parts of the story. Thankfully Gadreel's reactions remained mild after his first major shut down, and the angel insisted on pressing on every time Sam offered to stop.

Sam thought back to bolting awake after his dreamroot ritual, face wet with tears that clearly didn't belong to him. Even now he could feel a low thrum of pain raidiating from Gadreel at all times, pulsing stronger every time the angel checked out on him. It took Sam a bit to recognize the feeling for what it was, and once he did it made him want to navigate their story more carefully. But there was only so much he could do when he didn't really know what blows to soften.

Although, he did make it a point not to bring up Gabriel again. Given his reaction, it was a pretty safe bet that Gadreel and the Archangel had been close. Sam wondered if Gabriel ditched heaven before or after Gadreel's imprisonment, curious if it was a factor in him leaving at all.

Sam knew heartache better than he would like, and could sympathize, so he left it alone.

After they finally got Gadreel caught up on what led them to their current situation the angel withdrew to some quiet corner of Sam's mind and settled in to rest. Given the amont of information he had been presented with, Sam couldn't blame him for wanting to be alone.

Well, as alone as their situation allowed anyway.

Gadreel finally decided to resurface after Dean and Cas came home.

Once they settled back in the two of them, plus Sam, had set up shop in the library to work on their newest assignment. While Dean and Cas ate a late lunch they swapped stories, Dean talked about their hunt, and then Sam filled them in about Gadreel.

Then it was time to tackle the books.

Kevin was sure he was on the cusp of some big breakthrough on the angel tablet. It didn't look like a way to reopen the pearly gates, at least he didn't think so, but he was sure whatever it was would be beneficial in some way. He was positive that it would be in a _big_ way.

So it was all hands on deck, all of them working together to see if they could make sense of the scribbles that Kevin had handed them. The papers were riddled with words, symbols and phrases from at least seven different languages that Sam recognized, and several more that he didn't. A small mountain range of books and scrolls was laid out between the three of them for cross referncing, smaller piles arranged according to who could read what.

Needless to say, the largest pile sat firmly in front of Castiel.

He looked like he could use the distraction anyway.

Sam was halfway though a journal written in Latin when he felt a warm brush of grace in the back of his mind, a tentative greeting followed by a hint of curiosity.

 _Castiel and Dean have returned?_

 _They did_. Along with the confirmation, Sam sent out an invitation for Gadreel to come closer to the surface. Not giving him control, but offering to let him see through his eyes like he had when they were talking with Kevin.

 _Did things not go well? Castiel is upset._

Sam found it interesting that he could tell, but didn't comment on it. _The angel they were after was something called a Rit Zien and couldn't be talked down. Cas seemed pretty shaken up about it. Then again, when an angel has to die he always takes it hard. Give it a few days. Dean will snap him out of it if it gets too bad._

As if knowing he was being discussed, Castiel lifted his head, brows furrowing for a moment when he took in Sam. Then the look gained a sharper focus, looking past him, through him though his expression remained neutral. "Hello Gadreel. How are you feeling?"

Sam felt Gadreel recoil, getting a tiny glimmer of panic even as that pained thrum pulsed louder. _I . . . tell him- tell him that I am improving._

Sam relayed the message, and watched Cas blink in confusion as Gadreel retreated to whatever tiny corner he disappeared to.

"I didn't mean to upset him."

Sam offered a reassuring smile. "I don't think you did. I just think he's still taking in everything. Plus, I think it's been awhile since another angel's shown concern for him. You did tell me he has a pretty bad rap, so probably doesn't know what to expect from you."

"Oh. Of course." Cas looked to Dean, who only offered a dismissive shrug.

Gears began turning in Sam's head, analyzing all the different reaction's he's gotten from Gadreel since they really started talking. He grabs a new text from their collective pile and opens it, but he's not really focusing on the words. Sam settles deeper in his chair as he gathers together all his little observations. There was something to them, a feeling that he kept getting from Gadreel that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Whatever it was, Sam didn't think it was dangerous. He could always ask outright, but he didn't want to alienate Gadreel with questions that were potentionally insensitive or personal. Gadreel was just starting to relax as it was, so Sam would keep from prying. For now, at least.

Until then, he would keep gathering puzzle pieces until he had enough to start putting them together.

 **Author's Note** : For the record, you guys rock. I mean you seriously rock my socks. Yes, you, the person staring at a screen and reading this right now. I write things for myself, but let me tell you, that the response I got after the last chapter was Phenomenal. Seriously, thank you! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying my take on Gadreel, and that Gabriel being his mate went over so well. I hope you continue to enjoy it as the story progresses!

I'm normally not whipping out chapters this fast, so don't go thinking this is normal for me. But I'm sure you guys are pleased to note I'm already working on chapter 6! Have and questions about this or any of my stories? Feel free to PM me or say hello to me on Tumblr ( sharysisnhmoonshadow ) Happy reading guys! -Shadow


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Castiel still had so many unanswered questions, and his encounter with Ephraim didn't help matters at all.

Since his most recent ressurection at Gadreel's hands, the tiny portion of his restored grace had been growing by fractions. The growth was so small at first that it took him a while to notice, but it was there. The rate of growth was now slowing down as the days passed, suggesting that it would stop soon, but the fact remained that it shouldn't have been growing to begin with.

Castiel was unsure of what to make of his recovered grace fragment. It still wasn't enough to restore his wings. He still couldn't heal or smite. He had never heard of an angel retaining only partial grace. From his experience, an angel either had their grace or they didn't, there was no true in between. Anna, and angels like her, ripped theirs out completely, and when Castiel fell the first time he still _had_ his grace, but by being so forcibly cut off from heaven its power had waned and faded to next to nothing. No more useful than a dead battery.

This was different.

And to make matters worse, Ephraim had commented on it. He had looked at Castiel and scowled, telling him that he would have been better off remaining human. He claimed that his grace was tainted and cursed.

Castiel was still confused by what he meant. The grace, though small and so clearly incomplete, still _felt_ like his. There was nothing dark or tainted that he could sense from it.

He had hoped to speak with Gadreel about it, which led him to his other problem.

Gadreel was avoiding him.

Castiel was understanding to a point. The older angel was clearly more than aware of his reputation with their breatherin, so he couldn't fault him for hesitance. Castiel imagined Gadreel was worried about Castiel and his opinion of his presence. With good reason, he was forced to admit.

When Dean had first told Castiel who the unknown angel truly was, his first reaction had been . . . less than flattering, to say the least. Dean had blocked the doorway, using himself as a barricade as Castiel had raged at him, trying to impress upon Dean all the things the angel was to blame for. All the evil that had befallen humanity, all the the pain. The Apocalypse would have never needed to be, if it hadn't been for Gadreel's failure.

Dean had argued some of their own mistakes, more than one were Earth-shattering, or potentially so. But Castiel wouldn't listen and couldn't understand why he was defending him.

And then Dean brought him up short with one question and a look that was torn between hurt and angry.

 _"Was meeting me really so terrible?"_

Just like that, all the wind had been taken from his sails.

For everything that has happened, all the lies and mistakes, all the devestation they had wrought, he would do it all again if the alternative was never knowing the Winchesters. Never knowing _Dean_.

Once he had calmed down, Castiel made it a point to try to judge Gadreel only by his actions since meeting Dean, and not the stories passed down to him from the Host. Taking possesion of Sam with such dubious consent was still apalling, there was no way around that, but Gadreel was not the only one to blame there. Aside from that one large offence, Gadreel had done nothing untrustworthy. Freed from prison for the first time in millenia and his first instinct had been to answer a human's prayer.

That action alone stood in stark contrast to the corrupted being the Host painted him as.

Castiel was still hesitant, but he agreed that Gadreel deserved a chance.

But it was hard to learn more about someone when they refused to interact with you.

According to Sam, Gadreel had been on the surface more and more at the hunter's insistence. Sam still hasn't let the angel take over fully, but admitted to acting as Gadreel's voice on several occasions with Dean and Kevin.

Castiel had witnessed this more than once, and hoped to use those moments to speak with him. It was easy to tell when the other angel was close enough to the surface to be aware of his surroundings. Though still horribly scarred and weakened, Gadreel's grace was growing more vibrant, clearly heeding Sam's advice and giving himself a chance to heal. But as soon as Castiel makes his presence known or tries to acknowledge Gadreel directly, he would retreat so far into Sam that the glow of his grace was almost completely lost in the shine of Sam's soul. It was baffeling.

He tried to give it time, but nothing was changing. What did that say about Castiel's own reputation if Heaven's most universally hated angel was avoiding _him_?

During one quiet afternoon, Castiel decided to seek answers.

The group took a break from research for the day, the Winchesters enforcing it with Kevin by sending him out with Dean for a short supply run. After handing over a list and watching the two of them dive off in the impala, Sam had disappeared deeper into the building.

Castiel found Sam deep in the heart of the bunker in a room he had never seen before.

Sam was crouched by the floor flashlight in one hand while the other was elbow deep in an ancient computer. He looked up and flashed a a brief smile, and Castiel could tell at a glance that Gadreel currently lay dormant.

"Hey Cas. What's up?"

Castiel stepped further into the room, hands resting casually in the pockets of his borrowed sweatshirt. "Sam, could I ask you a question?"

Sam's lips quirked as he peered closer at whatever he was investigating. "Technically, you just did."

He frowned. "Then could I ask you another question?"

"You just- uh, yeah. What's on your mind?"

"Are you positive I haven't done anything to upset Gadreel?"

"Pretty sure." When Sam caught sight of his expression he set his tools down and leaned back, giving Castiel his undivided attention. "Why? What makes you think that?"

"He has never spoken with me. He'll speak with everyone else in the bunker, but never to me. I've been wanting to talk, but that's difficult when all he does is hide from me. What else am I to think?"

Sam seemed to consider this carefully. He frowned and stood, wiping his hands off on a rag that had been stashed in his back pocket. "I'm still pretty sure that whatever it is, it's not because of anything you did. Hold on, let me see it I can straiten this out."

Eyes closed, Sam's breathing evened, the rise and fall of his chest as steady as a metronome. As if called, the bright blue flicker of Gadreel slowly emerged from Sam's soul. The two of them must have been conversing, soul and grace overlapping eachother like gentle waves on a beach, ebbing and flowing, drifting back and forth depending on who was speaking. It was a curious way to coexist with a vessel, and Castiel observed in quiet interest even if he couldn't hear the conversation.

What happened next was absolutely fascinating.

Judging by Sam's pinched expression, their talk wasn't going quite the way he wanted it to. Just like every previous encounter with Castiel, Gadreel made to retreat deeper into his vessel.

But Sam was clearly having none of it. In an interesting play of energy, Sam seemed to somehow _grab_ Gadreel, forcibly shoving the angel forward as he let himself fall back. Sam's eyes snapped open and flashed with grace-light as Gadreel was given no choice but to take the reins.

The older angel was clearly startled, taking a moment to settle in. His posture was rigid, two threadbare shadows speading behind him before folding on themselves and dissapearing from Castiel's vision entirely. His throat moved in a hard swallow as his eyes landed on Castiel.

Guilt swirled uninvited in the pit of his stomache. "I didn't mean for Sam to force you into a conversation you clearly didn't want."

"No, it's fine. I did not expect Sam to give me control in such a manner." Gadreel assured him. The change in Sam's voice was instantly noticable, even if Castiel wasn't able to see the grace beneath the skin, the change in cadence was unmistakable.

Castiel couldn't help the comment. "You'll find the Winchesters often do things you don't expect them to."

"So I'm beginning to learn. You wished to speak with me?"

"About a few things, yes."

Gadreel squared his stance, almost at attention. Since he was paying such close attention, Castiel notices the small things. Nostrils flaring from restrained but rapid breathing. Fingers curling into loose fists and then flaring back out, as if not to appear threatening. There was worry in his eyes, the expression recognizable on Sam's face even if the angel wore it a bit differently. Seeing Gadreel so close to a panic made him reconsider inquiring about his grace, at least immediatly. He decided to go with a different route, hoping it would put him a little more at ease.

"Well, first I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?"

It was a sad thing how genuinely confused the older angel was, further reinforcing Castiel's decision to give him a chance.

He took a step forward, careful not to crowd. "For aiding the Winchesters. Even after the arrival of other angels, you stayed to answer Dean's prayer. For that, you have my gratitude. Especially since I was unable to do so myself.

Gadreel bowed his head, acknowledging the words, but made no comment on them.

"How is your own recovery going? Sam tells me you've been resting, but not much else."

There. Gadreel shifted his weight, the tense set to his shoulders increasing, a reflex of limbs that were hidden from his sight. "Better with every passing day. Sam is still my priority, of course."

The words rang of reassurance, hastily added, as if proving to Castiel that he hadn't forgotten why he was here. That he was still doing his job, and was still _useful._

A sympathetic ache bloomed within his chest, remembering times past when he had done the same.

 _Always happy to bleed for the Winchesters._

"I'm glad to hear you're healing," Castiel continued. "I'm sure Sam and Dean have already done so, but I also wanted to thank you for ressurecting me. You didn't know me, and you owed me nothing, so thank you."

 _That_ caused a reaction. Gadreel's grace had flared and then instantly dimmed. A breath blew out of him, harsh and ragged, and muscles twitched along his jaw. The eyes were bright.

When he finally spoke his voice held a brittle quality to it.

"I couldn't leave you like that." Despite the brittleness, the words were firm, as stating an unshakable fact. "Did you need anything else from me?"

More questions bubbled to the surface, adding themselves to the ones he already had, but he held his tongue and let them slide for now. There would be other opportunities. "No. But I would like to speak again soon, if you would be up to it."

Finally, there was a faint smile. "I would like that."

With another flash of grace-light, Gadreel retreated.

The tense set of limbs vanished as Sam took over, fingers rubbbing lightly over his eyes. The hunter frowned as he stared at the tips, then lifted his hand and a curious brow in his direction. His fingertips were wet. "Dude, what did you _say_ to the guy?"

Castiel opened his mouth but faltered, at a sudden loss for words. Gadreel had been holding back _tears_ at the end of their brief conversation, and another piece of Castiel's distrust shattered at the realization.

Sam repeated his question and he answered in the only way he knew.

"I don't know."

 **Author's Note** : Happy Belated Valentine's Day to you all!

I can't thank you enough for all the faves, watches and reviews! It means a lot to me and really does help keep the inspiration flowing! I love you guys! - Shadow


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Even though he was aware of Castiel's altered memories, and had been reminded of it again and again during his imprisonment, he had dreaded experiencing it first hand. When he had been young, Castiel had been bright and curious, and so very affectionate to both of his parents, and the last thing Gadreel wanted was to be reminded that all those memories, all that joy and warmth, was lost to him. With Gabriel gone, he was the only one who remembered the three of them together as family, the first small flock to be built within the vast numbers of the Heavenly Host.

The first and, if his suspitions were correct, the last as well.

He dreaded speaking to Castiel because as far as the younger angel was concerned, he was a stranger at best. Someone known through rumors and stories and nothing was no history there, no fond memories. Nothing.

And given

that he was still reeling from the knowledge of his mate's true end, Gadreel didn't know if he could handle it. Not right now.

Thankfully, avoiding the issue had proven rather easy.

Over the last few weeks Sam made it a point to engage Gadreel and make him feel welcome. He even encouraging conversations with the others, even if it wasn't directly. Gadreel appreciated the effort, though it was far more than he deserved. It felt so strange to be surrounded by allies, and to converse with those who were genuinely interested in what he had to say, with no animosity, no hatred tainting it.

It had been so very long, and he reveled in every conversation, even filtered through Sam.

Though he had easily fallen into casual interactions with Dean and Kevin, he had managed to avoid Castiel. Castiel had tried to address him, more than once in fact, but panic would grip Gadreel tight and he would hide deep within Sam's soul until he could calm himself.

He feared the lies the Host had fed to Castiel over the years, feared his rejection almost as much as he feared his indifference, and so he avoided direct contact.

Gadreel contented himself with observing Castiel at a distance, quietly learning of the angel his fledgling had grown to become. Sam had been very free with information when he had told their story, and from it had painted quite a picture. Castiel had changed since knowing the Winchesters, evolved from a harsh Garrison leader to a rebel who fought for what he believed in. The three of them had made many mistakes, so many mistakes, but none of them stopped trying and because of it had changed the fate of the world. He watched Castiel interact with Dean, and would listen from a distance when he spoke with Sam. It was easy to see the warmth there between the three of them, though Dean was sometimes a bit odd when ineracting with Castiel, much to Sam's amusement and Gadreel's confusion.

After witnessing one such interaction, he had made a comment to Sam later, when the man was preparing for bed. His charge had responded with equal measures of fondness and exasperation, the warmth of it soaking down through Gadreel. "Dean's never been very good with his own emotions, and usually doesn't know where his own head is at when faced with anything potentially good for him. And Cas is well - _Cas_. They've been through a lot together, hell, purgatory, and Cas has become family. I've found it's best to just let them orbit one another, and let them figure it out on their own. I _hope_ they figure it out on their own, because I'm not getting involved in that."

As Gadreel listened to Sam speak aloud, he remembered Castel's expression at one of Dean's more outlandish comments. The slight smile had spoken of an amused tolerance, accepting even if he didn't quite understand the context.

Gadreel was certain he had worn a similar expression for Gabriel on more than one occasion, and it was then that he realized the potential that his charge had hinted at.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

In that instant, Gadreel felt like an intruder.

In the face of so much shared history, he couldn't help but feel as if he was invading territory he had no business being in, and that he was expected to move on once his task was complete.

Then came the day that Sam had woken him from his rest when Castiel had sought him out.

Up until that day, Sam had let Gadreel pick and choose when he wished to interact with the others, letting him fall back unhindered whenever he panicked or became overwhelmed. Had let Gadreel have that much freedom, always inviting but never forcing an interaction.

So he was surprised when Sam urged him to the surface, offering full control to talk directly to Castiel. _He's worried you hate him_ , Sam said, by way of explanation when he balked.

Gadreel didn't dare take what was offered, but shock and hurt crept in at the thought. _I could never hate him._

 _Then_ talk _to him._

 _I can't._

Exasperation. _Whatever it is you're scared of, running isn't going to make that fear go away. I don't know what has you so spooked, but believe me when I say that you can trust Cas. Please._

 _Sam, you do not understand, I_ can't _!_

He had tried to run then, had tried to retreat as he had done so many times in the past.

The last thing he expected was for Sam's soul to latch onto him and _shove_ him forward, forcing him into control and taking away his hiding spot by occupying it himself.

He felt exposed in a way he hadn't in a long time, and quickly hid his mangled wings out of pure reflex. It was unclear exactly how acute Castiel's vision currently was, but he's rather not expose them all the same.

There was a lot Gadreel expected from this confrontation with Castiel. He expected pointed questions, resentment, and demands for answers he could not yet give. He expected words of judgement and general distrust.

The very last thing he had expected was gratitude and concern, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was being tested somehow. Castiel's body language seemed calm, but it was assessing too.

And then it came.

As he was still processing the lack of negative lashback, the words came, reminding him of what he dreaded all along. And somehow the delivery was made worse in the wake of such kindness.

 _"You didn't know me, and you owed me nothing."_

The words were spoken in a way that was brutally open and honest, adding a fresh layer of salt to an open wound.

The conversation had been mercifully short, and had been simultaniously better and worse than he feared. Thankfully, Castiel and Sam let him fall back before he completely lost his composure, but it had been a very near thing.

Some hours later Sam had brushed against his grace, apologetic and filled to the brim with guilt and concern. Regret about forcing the issue plagued his thoughts.

Gadreel didn't have it in him to be angry with Sam. Even if the timing was terrible, he had honestly believed he was helping, and reliquishing control like that had required no small amount of trust on his part. He had eased Sam's worry as best as he could, stressing that apoligies weren't neccissary and that no harm had been done.

He lay dormant well into the next day, resting and processing what had transpired, but he was determined to not dwell on it for too long.

Castiel's words still lanced through him, sharp and painful, but it had been followed by a request he couldn't deny.

His Castiel wanted to speak with him again.

He couldn't say that Castiel's missing memories would hurt any less, but here he was, unkowingly offering to create new ones.

He didn't get to keep this, Gadreel knew that, he knew how easily and quickly his luck turned sour. But he couldn't help the tiny flicker of hope that he could have just this one thing. Despite the temporary feel of it all, and the lingering issues the Winchesters were trying to deal with, things were looking . . . bright. His long tenure in prison warned him not to trust it, that it wouldn't last, that it _couldn't_ last. But on the other hand he couldn't let this chance slip by, even if it made him ache.

Temporary or no, the memories he was creating here would be ones he would cling to in the rough days to come.

 **oOoOo**

"Hey, hey! Dude, that was my slice!"

"Sorry Dean. Prophet privilege."

"The _hell_ it is!"

Dean grumped as Kevin took an enormous bite, forcing him to take a smaller less-topping-laden slice. Kevin gave him an unapologetic smile, cheeks crammed full of pizza.

Sam chuckled at the bickering, hiding behind his beer. Usually it was Dean stealing Sam's food, so he was enjoying watching his brother get a taste of his own medicine.

"Yikes. If I knew it was going to be a war zone I would have brought more pizza!"

Sam looked over to Charlie, her own slice in hand as she watched Dean and Kevin continue to snipe at eachother. Cas, who was sitting on the other side of her, was also watching their antics. He gave a considering tilt of his head, Castiel's classic expression when presented with something that didn't completely make sense. "I'm not sure the amount of food availble is the problem in this case. Then again, Dean is known to consume a suprising quantity in one sitting."

Sam choked a bit on his beer, setting off a small coughing fit as he cleared his throat.

Mild concern burned the back of his brain as Gadreel rose further to the surface, and Sam mentally waved off the offer of angelic assisstance.

Charlie had arrived at the bunker like a thrown rock meeting the placid surface of a pond, and Sam had never been more grateful of her infectious energy.

After discovering the bunker's computer system and tinkering with it, Sam soon realized he was in way over his head. So he had hit up Charlie, asking her to come take a look and see if she could make the ancient machines work for them. Enthusiastic to be visiting the boys, their friend had vowed to be there the next day, with a promise of food and a demand for a movie marathon. She had shown up, just as promised, bearing a stack of pizza, beer, soda, and enough snacks to feed a small army.

All the residents in the bunker had been different shades of sullen and subdued in recent days, with their lack of progress on finding a way to stop Abaddon or on reopening the gates of heaven. They had all been spinning tires and gaining no traction, and tempers had begun to grow short. All of them were in some desperate need of some positivity and distraction, and in true style Charlie delivered.

Introductions had been made as food had been laid out in the kitchen, Kevin first, then Cas. The startled expression when he found himself with an armful of excited redhead had been priceless. When Charlie released him she gave him a playful push and a megawatt smile. "I can't believe I finally get to meet Dean's angel!" She leaned in close and dropped her voice to a stage whisper. "So, have you healed his broken heart yet?"

Dean snapped to attention from where he was putting the extra beer away. "Broken heart? And what do you mean _my angel_?"

Cas ignored Dean's defensive outburst. "Unfortunately, I'm not really anyone's angel at the moment. I'm currently missing the majority of my grace, and so, my powers."

"No magic touch, huh? Bummer. Well, guess I can forget about fixing my carpal tunnel then."

The words were light, said with a smile and a laugh, clearly made to be taken as a joke. However, as soon as she said the words Gadreel reacted, rising up from his silent observation, and for the first time Gadreel asked something of Sam.

Curious about what he would do, Sam granted his permission, allowing Gadreel to take the wheel. He still lingered close, watching but not interfering.

Gadreel took a small step forward. "If you would like, maybe I could be of assistance."

It was so odd how different his voice sounded when it was Gadreel behind the words. Even in that one sentence, tone and inflection were completely different from how he would normally say it. Him but clearly not.

Charlie noticed. Her eyes snapped to him, squinting a bit as she frowned at him, clearly wary. "Sam?"

Dean cleared his throat from across the table. "Charlie, meet Zeke. He and Sam kinda have a timeshare thing going on at the moment while he's healing Sam up from the trials."

"My name is Gadreel, actually." Sam noted the soft way he introduced himself, and realized that this just might be the first time in ages that he's offered up his true name willingly, and without coersion. "If I may?" He held out a hand.

Charlie's gaze darted to the others in the room as if double checking that everyone else was okay with Sam's supernatural hitchiker. After a long moment the verdict was in, and so she gave a small shrug and took Gadreel's offered hand. "Um, sure."

There was a brief pulse of light, one that Sam was pretty sure that only himself and Castiel could see, as Gadreel used his grace, fixing inflamed tendons and damaged nerves. It was over in an instant, leaving Charlie to scrunch her face in confusion.

"Is that it?"

"Yes. Your hands should feel better now. Please let me know if they start to pain you again."

"Uh, sure. Thanks."

Gadreel gave a nod and the next thing Sam knew he was back in full control of his own body. He gave an awkward grin as he rubbed the back of his neck. "So, now you've officially met everybody."

"Well, not _everybody_." Dean mused, twisting the cap off a bottle of beer. "We still have an ex-King of Hell marinating in the dungeon."

"You have a _what_ in the _what now_?"

Everyone had settled in around the table and settled in for Charlie's brief catch-up session as they dug into dinner.

After the food ran out and they hashed out what they were going to watch, the chatter continued. There was banter and bickering and Charlie taking great glee in teaching Cas a few frivolous games, somehow roping Kevin to helping her fold a few origami fortune tellers out of paper towels. The bunker was as loud and lively as it's ever been, and Sam couldn't help but sit back and think _this is nice_.

Gadreel was observing right along with him, and Sam wondered how much of that warm ball of contentment sitting in his chest was actually both of theirs.

"Come on Dean, pick a color!"

"Oh no, you keep me out of it."

"Spoilsport." Charlie twisted in her seat and held up the little paper fortune teller, grinning. "Sam, Gad, either of you want to pick a color?"

Dean groaned. "See, that right there is why I still call him Zeke. Gad is a _terrible_ nickname."

"Oh, come on, it's not _that_ bad."

"It is! Cas, Kev, come on guys, back me up here."

A small trill of confusion filtered through Gadreel's amusement. _Why are they arguing over what to call me?_

Sam snorted, a smile tugging his lips. _Take it as a compliment. It's a bit of a Dean Winchester ritual, like Cas or Kev. Or like when Dean calls me Sammy. It means he's starting to see you as one of us._

That lingering warmth in his chest blazed up like a freshly stoked fire, giving Sam an answer.

As fondness seeped into his very bones, Sam decided to broach a topic he's been meaning to discuss for a while now, especially since he wasn't sure if Gadreel, like Cas, would understand Winchester without it being spelled out for him. _Gadreel, you know you have a spot here right? I mean later, you know, after I'm healed and you go back to your other vessel. We have plenty of room and the bunker is one of the safest places you could be. You can come back and stay if you want._

More emotion bled through than Sam was expecting. A heavy blanket of surprise and gratefulness, followed by a brittle line of hope, and Sam wasn't sure how much of the bleed intentional. It was clear that Gadreel was floored by the offer.

 _You do not know how much that means to me. Thank you Sam._

 **oOoOo**

 **Author's Notes:** Hello all! Here's an extra long chapter with a side serving of warm fuzzies for your Easter Sunday. I hope it was worth the wait!

Questions, or just want to stop and say "hi" feel free to comment/PM me here or hit me up on Tumblr. ( Sharysisnhmoonshadow ).

Until next time, Happy Reading!- Shadow


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Sam gave a wide yawn as he stumbled groggily into the kitchen. With rumpled night clothes and sleep-mussed hair, he made a bee-line for the coffee. There was just enough left in the pot to fix his cup, humming appreciatively as he had his first sip.

When he turned around it took him a moment to process that Dean was already at the table. His brother grinned, hands wrapped around his own mug. "Nice look there, princess."

"Shut up," Sam snapped, but without heat. Out of habit, his fingers ran through his hair in an attempt to bring the mess under control. From the was Dean was snickering, he didn't think it was working.

"You can do a better comeback than that."

"After coffee." He took another sip and took note of the otherwise empty room. "Where is everybody?"

"Sleeping. Hopefully. Though Cas' door was open, so I'm guessing he's up and at 'em somewhere." Dean gestured at Sam. "How about Zeke? He awake?"

Sam could feel Gadreel as a quiet warmth lingering in the back of his mind, calm and settled. "No, he's still resting. He and Cas were still working on Kevin's notes when I called it quits for the both of us."

After obsessing over the magically-modified computer system, and tinkering with it to her heart's delight, Charlie had started putting her head together with Kevin regarding the Angel Tablet. She seemed confident that she could at least create a system that would make decoding the Tablet run smoother. Well, not the tablet itself, but the multilingual notes that Kevin had been producing. If nothing else, Kevin seemed to appreciate having a new sounding board.

Dean downed the remainder of his mug and stood. "I'm gonna make a fresh batch of coffee and then get started on a real breakfast."

"Need help?"

"Nah, I got this. If anyone is up, send them down for a food, would ya?"

"Sure thing."

With his brother waving him off, Sam ambled out of the kitchen and down the hallway, mug still firmly in hand.

The last couple of days had been exceedingly nice. Besides friendly banter, nobody was overly agitated. Kevin wasn't overdosing on caffeine pills, Cas was actually staying put, and Gadreel was finally relaxing. All of those counted as wins in Sam's book.

Inevitably, a case would crop up, or angel or demon activity would bring them back to business as usual, but Sam was enjoying the down time while it lasted.

Lost in thought, Sam climbed the steps into the library only to find Charlie and Kevin exactly where he left them last night. Kevin zeroed in on the angel tablet, squinting and scribbling, occasionally sliding a scrap of notepaper over to Charlie to decipher and decode.

He did a double take, just to make sure they were actually there.

"Holy crap guys, you two been up all night?"

"Uh . . ." Charlie looked up first. Bleary eyes blinked rapidly then focused on the corner of the computer screen, clearly reading the time. "That would be a yes."

"Do I need to give you the whole 'pace yourself' speech again, or should I let Dean take a go at it?"

"God, spare me," Kevin groaned, face-planting into his notes.

"We'll stop for some shut eye soon, I promise, but Kevin might have stumbled across something and . . . well I guess time got away from us."

Sam stepped closer to peer over Charlie's shoulder. "Anything useful?"

"Hard to tell . . ." Charlie shuffles some of the scribbles piled by her computer before snatching one and holding it over her shoulder for him to examine. "It's like a note within a note, it's almost as if Meta-douche didn't want prophets to read it. We're working on it but this is all we got."

Sam took the small piece of paper and looks at the words there.

 _Restoration of the Pillars_

 _Connection must be (existing? established?)_

 _Blood of an Anchor_

 _(item? power? creature? unclear)_

 _"What is it?" Sam handed it back._

Kevin lifted his head to give Sam an unimpressed look. "It's a spell." He frowned. "I think? I can't quite get the right context for most of this, but whatever it is, it's something big. Maybe it's more of a ritual, with spell components?"

"For what?"

"When I know, you'll know, okay?"

"Okay. Just don't work yourself into the ground, alright?" He leveled a heavy stare at Charlie as well. "That goes for you too."

"We got it, we got it. Sheesh."

"At least take a break for food. Dean said breakfast in a half hour. Have you two seen Cas?"

The two of them shared a glance. Kevin frowned at Charlie. "Didn't he pass through about an hour ago?"

"Closer to two. He said he was going to explore the bunker a bit."

"I'll go find him then." He downed the last of his coffee and set the empty mug on the table. "If you two are still here when I come back through I'm carrying you both into the kitchen."

"Yes _mother_."

Sam chuckled as he left, disappearing into the depths of the bunker.

They had been here for a few months now and they were still discovering more hallways and corridors. Others they already knew about but simply didn't have the time to explore properly. Sam wandered the lesser-known halls until he saw a glimmer of light at the end of a darkened corridor. At the end was a short staircase, the open door on top spilling light into the hall.

Sam mounted the steps and emerged into what appeared to be a garage. the ceiling was high and the stalls lining the walls were filled with vintage vehicles. A soft smile spread across his face as he imagined his brother's reaction to this little find. Dean was going to be thrilled to finally have a proper place to house the impala.

Something large and metallic clanged and clattered as it hit concrete somewhere in the far corner of the room.

"Cas?" Sam called, long legs carrying him further into the room as his eyes swept around, trying to locate the source of the noise. As he rounded the bend into a wide service bay Cas came into view. His back was to Sam and he was standing stock-still in front of a work bench, tools scattered everywhere, and staring intently at his right hand.

It was covered in blood.

Alarm bolted through Sam as he rushed forward, grabbing Cas about the wrist and herding him to the sink just several steps away. "Jesus, Cas, what happened?"

Gadreel rose sharply into Sam's awareness, worry pressing hard on top of Sam's own emotions as he crowded close to the surface. _What's wrong with Castiel?_

"I was investigating the different tools around the room. Some of it was stacked precariously, that's all. I'm fine."

Sam scowled as he turned the tap on full blast and stuck Castiel's hand under the frigid stream of water. "Don't give me that, there's blood all over-" He paused, eyebrows scrunching together.

Under the blood was . . . nothing. No wound, anyway, just a faint line that was disappearing as Sam watched.

"It would seem my grace is strong enough to heal now."

This was a good thing. This _should_ have been a good thing. But instead of pleased, Castiel just looked confused and faintly lost. It left Sam at a loss for words, not knowing what to say, or what reassurance his friend needed.

Cas raised those blue eyes, searching. "Is Gadreel willing to speak with me?"

Neither Sam or Gadreel were expecting that, their mutual surprise echoing off each other, though Gadreel's answer was immediate.

 _Of course._

"Yes."

It was amazing how quickly Sam was getting used to trading places with the angel.

oOoOo

Gadreel slipped into control of Sam's body, with a whisper of thanks towards his charge.

Castiel stood there, looking at his healed hand, and wiping at the remnants of blood he found there.

Gadreel's first impulse was to drape his wings over him, but he smothered it down, knowing that the gesture wouldn't be well received. Instead he took one of the unused rags sitting on the counter and took a step forward. He opened a palm towards Castiel. "May I?"

At Castiel's answering nod, he took hold of his wrist, grip loose and gentle, and used the rag to wipe away the remaining blood. "What has you so troubled, Castiel?"

The younger angel's weight shifted, but he kept his hand where it was until Gadreel was finished, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. "I've been meaning to ask you something, but it hasn't seemed the time." He felt Castiel's eyes follow him as he went to rinse the dirty rag in the sink. He could have used his grace, but id seemed a waste of resources. "When you brought me back . . . I thought I had somehow reclaimed a portion of my grace. Since then it has been growing stronger. By mere inches, but enough, apparently, to heal myself."

Gadreel examined him with his sight, worry coursing through him. "Has the grace been causing you problems?"

Castiel frowned at that, lips pressing together in a thin line, before lightly shaking his head. "No. It feels weak, and incomplete, but I haven't had any trouble. It's just . . ."

When his fledgling looked away from him, fear settled in right alongside the worry. But still, he had to know. "Castiel. What do you need to ask me?"

The words, when they came, were slow and halting. "When Dean and I were on our last hunt . . . when Ephraim saw me he was repulsed by my grace." Castiel met his gaze then, blue eyes pleading. "Is there something wrong with me?"

Those words struck a chord with Sam, more than half a dozen memories plaguing his thoughts in quick succession. Many were Sam asking the same question in regards to himself, confused about his past abilities and scared for what they meant.

Gadreel brushed a tendril of grace against Sam's soul, impressing upon him calm and reassurance. For Castiel, Gadreel dropped the rag and turned to give him his full attention even as he thought of how to respond. Gadreel felt that honesty would be the best course here, but he was still worried.

He spoke softly, choosing his words carefully. "When I revived you . . . I saw that your grace had been stripped from you. And so I . . . I gave you some of my own. As much as I could spare." He bowed his head. "Ephraim would be very familiar with my grace, so I'm certain he recognized it."

"You _gave me_ some of your grace? I never knew such a thing was possible."

"Until you, it had never been done."

That was true. Until Castiel's creation, the thought of freely giving up a fragment of one's grace was unknown, the very idea an impossible one. And then Gadreel and Gabriel had done just that, and the fragments from the bonded pair had fused together to create a new angel.

It was little wonder Castiel felt incomplete. Gadreel was only capable of replenishing half of the core of his grace.

Castiel stood there, quiet and wide-eyed, and Gadreel worried if he should have used a different explanation instead. "Have I upset you?"

Blue eyes focused back on him. "No. No, I just wasn't expecting . . . that." His head canted slowly to the side. "I would have thought I would be able to tell the difference, like Ephraim was able to. I would have thought that one angel's grace would reject another's. Maybe because it was freely given?"

"Perhaps," Gadreel conceded, grateful that Castiel had come to his own conclusion. He felt he was making great strides here, but Gadreel also felt he was a long way off in confiding the whole truth. Hopefully one day, soon perhaps. But not now. "Regardless, if you experience any difficulties or discomfort, please let me know."

The smile Castiel gave him then, small but so warm, was the most rewarding thing he had seen in millennia. "I will. Thank you Gadreel."

"Now, I believe that Dean should have a meal ready, if you are interested.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

In the wake of Charlie deciding to grow roots and Cas and Gadreel finally talking to each other, Sam had settled in to enjoy the noise and banter that came with living with more people. It was something Sam hadn't experienced since his Stanford days, and for once the comparison didn't hurt. For a bit he could pretend that the outside world didn't exist. Everyone was here, they were alive and safe within the Bunker's heavily warded walls. He was determined to enjoy it for as long as possible.

And then came the morning that their communal breakfast was interrupted by a phone call from Sheriff Jody Mills. four people gone missing in the course of a week.

And just like that, their vacation was over and it was back to business as usual.

It was their first hunt since Sam learned that he was sharing space with Gadreel, and he had wanted to approach it like a training exercise. There was always an adjustment period when hunting with someone new, so Sam wanted to be prepared. Sure, technically Gadreel had helped them on previous hunts, but those were extreme moments and Gadreel hadn't surfaced for anything short of a life or death situation. So this was a good time as any to work on protocol.

He had underestimated how much fear the angel still harbored within him, and just how terrified he was of being discovered.

When he first threw the idea out to Gadreel, Sam just about drowned in it.

Just because Gadreel wasn't comfortable being continuously that close to the surface outside the security of the bunker didn't mean he didn't want to help. He did, Sam could feel that almost as clearly as he could feel the fear. It made Sam feel guilty for even asking in the first place. In the end, Gadreel decided to lay dormant, but only after Sam promised to call for him if things got out of hand. He insisted that he would be fine as long as his sessions in control were brief, like the times he helped before he had revealed himself to Sam.

With Gadreel still so wary of angels finding him, Sam decided a few additions to the Winchester Hunting Routine couldn't hurt. After putting his head together with Cas, they two of them came up with a few extra wards to add to the motel room that wouldn't have any adverse effects on any angel housed within them. Plus, Sam and Dean had already agreed to refer to Gadreel as Ezekiel while in a public space. Or Zeke, in Dean's case. The fact that Sam's ribs were still warded gave an extra layer or protection as well, however thin.

 _You really don't have to go through all this trouble._

 _We don't_ , Sam agreed silently as he hefted his bag into the the back of the impala. _But we're doing it anyway._

Gadreel's gratitude was a warm thing that curled up from deep within Sam's chest to settle firmly in his lungs. Sam smiled a bit as he closed the trunk.

And with that, Gadreel brushed against Sam's senses once more before, slipping away to disappear deep into his hiding place.

"Hey, we ready to go?"

Sam looked up at Dean, who had bounded up the steps and into the garage. "Yeah. Yeah, we're good."

Dean spun keys around his finger, grinning. "Then let's roll!"

As they settled into the familiar seats of the impala, Dean's music blasting in his ears, and the deep rumble of the engine vibrating through his limbs Sam decided not to worry. Jody had proved herself capable and adaptable, and between the three of them, Sam had no doubt that they could handle this hunt on their own.

He saw no need to bother Gadreel.

And then Dean became one of the missing.

 **oOoOo**

Gadreel was jarred awake by Sam's urgent call. He surged to the front, seeing through his charge's eyes to assess the situation. Physically, Sam was fine but sharp lines of worry streaked from him, dominating his mind. They were in an old barn, dark and dusty, with Sam crouched low over a half-hidden hatch bolted to the floor. He had a crowbar in hand and was trying to muscle open the lock, but the metal held firm.

 _Sam?_

Relief poured in, drowning out the worry. _Gadreel, help me get this open! Dean's down there with the rest of the missing people!_ Out loud Sam called out, "Dean, we're here! We're gonna get you out!" Then he bellowed over his shoulder. "Jody, I found it!"

 _Dean was taken?_ Gadreel was taken aback and hurt that Sam didn't wake him to tell him sooner, but he put it aside for now. He extended a tendril of grace forward, an offer.

Sam immediately fell back, letting Gadreel take full control. He let the crowbar clatter to the floor and grabbed hold of the hatch.

Before he could apply any of his strength, hands grabbed him from behind and threw him across the open space of the barn. Wood broke and splintered when they crashed through a low wall. He couldn't help but be grateful that he was the one in control. The force of the impact would have rendered Sam unconscious.

"Sam!" A woman's voice, laced with worry.

There was a gasp and a scuffle, followed by the abrasive scrape of raw pagan magic.

Gadreel rose quickly to his feet, not bothering to brush away the debris that clung to Sam's clothes. All his focus was on the slender figure across the room who had a short haired woman pinned one handed against a wall, electric blue energy lighting up her hand.

 _Jody!_

The flood of stress and fear from Sam had Gadreel moving instinctively to defend. He flared his wings aggressively, letting his grace spark and crackle just beneath the skin, announcing himself even as he stalked forward. "Release her. Now."

The pagan creature whipped her head around, her eyes wide and lips lifted into a snarl.

Surprise rippled from Sam. _Bonnie? Bonnie was Vesta?_

Clearly his charge recognised her from his investigation, but that was of no matter to Gadreel.

Vesta's hand flexed over Jody's neck, making her threat clear and her victim gasp for breath. Her eyes narrowed even as her snarl widened into a broad grin. "Well, now isn't this a surprise! The hunter was hiding a feather duster all along."

Jody took advantage of the inattention and made a bid to strike at her captor. She quickly drew something from her jacket and stabbed upwards, clearly aiming for the heart. Vesta managed to deflect the blow, albeit barely, and tossed the human woman across the room.

Gadreel summoned his blade to his hand and rushed in close to engage.

The fight was over quickly. The pagan goddess dodged the first two attacks, but a feint to the left opened her guard for the killing blow. The body lit up in a blaze of blue flame before collapsing into a twisted heap on the floor.

Gadreel turned to check on Jody Mills, only to find that there was no need.

The woman stood several meters away, panting and bruised but otherwise unharmed.

She had a gun leveled at him.

"Where's Sam?" Her hands were steady, experienced. Everything in her posture spoke of protectiveness, and her voice was steel.

Gadreel approved, even though now he was faced with a separate problem.

He dismissed his blade and lifted his hands, displaying his lack of weapons. "I mean you no harm Jody Mills."

"Right. I completely believe you." Her tone said quite clearly that she did not. "Now, again. Where's Sam?"

 _Gad, let me talk to her._

 _I would rather you didn't until the gun is put away._

After all, a bullet would be a minor irritation for Gadreel, but for Sam it would be significantly more painful. Either way, it wouldn't be fatal, but he refused to put Sam at risk regardless.

"Sam is here," Gadreel assured her, lightly touching two fingers to his temple. Simple and as honest as he could manage. "My name is Ezekiel. I promise you, Sam is fine."

Her expression was deadpan. "Like I'm just gonna take your word on that."

A sharp pounding from below the hatch at their feet drew their attention. "Hey! Sam! Jody! What the hell is going on up there?!"

Telegraphing his movements in a slow, deliberate manner, Gadreel crouched low over the hatch, and gripped the handle in one hand. One firm yank tore the metal right from its hinges, and was then promptly flicked aside. The steel door made a resounding thud as it hit the floor.

Jody's eyes widened and her mouth fell open at the casual display of strength.

Dean's head emerged instantly from the opening, eyes quickly taking in the scene around him. His attention bounced between Gadreel and Jodi, who still had her gun trained on him. "Okay. So, what did I miss?"

"Dean, Sam is-"

"Hello Dean," Gadreel interjected.

The hunter's face lit with immediate understanding. "Oh, hey Zeke. Sam okay?"

"Sam is fine. He's here as well."

Jody's voice dropped into something that left no room for argument. "Boy, you better explain or _so help me_ -"

"Full rundown, right, okay." Dean climbed out and moved aside, allowing three more people to emerge after him, a man and two women. One woman was hobbling on one foot, the other swooping in to support her. "Um. How about the gun gets put away, we get these three into town, then we head back to the motel. I'd feel better if we had this talk behind wards."

So would Gadreel, but he kept his opinion to himself.

There was a long pause before the gun was finally lowered and then holstered. "Fine. But your story better be good."

Dean then turned to Gadreel. "Alright man, I think it's safe for Sam to come out now."

Gadreel relinquished control back to Sam, and took careful note of Jody's expression when his vessel's eyes flashed blue. Her eyes widened, and she shot an unreadable look at Dean, but was otherwise calm.

He deemed it safe to fall back further, letting himself withdraw while still close enough to the surface to be aware of when they passed the threshold of the motel room.

 **oOoOo**

"Your brother's an _angel_?"

"No, Sam's _housing_ an angel. Trust me, _huge_ difference."

"I thought you told me that angels suck."

"I said _most of them suck_. Cas and Zeke are exceptions." Dean shrugged from his spot on the bed closest to the door, a beer can held loose in his hand. "Most angels are self righteous dickbags."

Sam was always amazed at how casual Dean was with his explanations, like he wasn't turning someone's world completely on it's head. Or maybe it just goes to show how jaded they were to the whole thing. Angels had been a regular thing in the hunting community for the last several years after all, so it wasn't like they were anything new.

Despite how cavalier Dean was, Sam was glad that Dean took point this time around, since he could barely concentrate. Gadreel was bubbling close to the surface, and Sam was having a hard time deciphering the roiling mix he was getting from the angel.

Though Sam was worried, he didn't quite know how to broach the subject and so he let him be.

Jody scrubbed at her face with both hands when Dean was done. "Jesus, you two! I feel like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole, every damn time." Hands suddenly fell away, her lips pursed and brows scrunched. She turned to Sam. "Wait. Why didn't you ask for Ezekiel's help right from the get go? At least for finding Dean?"

"Dean and I are warded," Sam explained. "Angels can't find us on their radar if we're out of line of sight."

The frustration from Gadreel was palpable, and laced with so much _concern_ it was like a brick to the face. _That doesn't mean that I could not help! And that does not explain why Dean didn't pray to me when he was taken. Just because he is warded does not mean I would not hear a direct prayer._

A twist of guilt lodged itself firmly in Sam's throat.

Dean caught his expression and lifted a brow. "What?"

"Zeke's upset at us," he said by way of explanation. He scratched at his chin. "Um, hey Dean . . . was there any particular reason you didn't pray to him?"

His brother's face turned dumbstruck.

Jody swatted the elder Winchester in the back of the head with an audible thwack. "It didn't even cross your mind, did it? That's typical."

Dean rubbed the back of his skull, scowling. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Only that you two yahoos tend to forget that you can lean on other people." She shot Sam a look that left no room for argument. "Tell Ezekiel not to take it personal. He should've been warned of your bad habit of taking the whole world on by yourselves. You boys are good at what you do, obviously, but don't be afraid to ask for help now and then, yeah?"

The turbulent emotions radiating from Gadreel settled somewhat from Jody's words. _I like this woman._

Sam huffed a silent laugh at the approval from Gadreel. _Of course you do_. There was a long pause as he tried for the right words to say, but settled for a simple apology. _I'm sorry. About not letting you know what happened. But you already seemed stressed about being outside the bunker, so I . . . I thought we could handle it._

Gadreel was doing that thing again, where he seemed to somehow drape himself around Sam, all warmth and comfort. Like a hug, but without the physical presence of a second person. _I understand. But if something were to happen to you or your brother, I do not know how I could face Castiel. Or Kevin, or Charlie for that matter. You have surrounded yourselves with fiercely loyal people, and I do not believe you truly understand just how precious that is. How rare._

Sam watched Dean snark back at Jody. She must have said something while he was focused on Gadreel, and whatever it was had Dean's sarcasm out full force. The sheriff's return stare screamed I Am Not Impressed. Sam briefly wondered if it was a mom thing. It's not like he would know.

He remembered telling Gadreel that they had lost enough friends, and he had meant it. But it was nice to know that there were those who had similar feelings when it came to them.

 **oOoOo**

 **Author's Note** : Hello everyone! I wanna thank everyone for all the love since my last update. I know long breaks are usual for me since I'm a notoriously slow writer, but the comments and faves have given me a lot to smile about, especially the last two months. For those who don't know, I have a horse, and the last eight weeks have been stressful and filled with xrays and ultrasounds. I learned that my girl has early joint issues, but I caught it early enough that with a regular medication regime, she'll be just fine. Now that she's been cleared for work by two different vets, I can now breathe easier, and concentrate back on some of my other hobbies!

Also, although there is no way for me to catch up to the word count, I'm using NANOWRIMO as a means to get as much of the Gift written as possible. Let's see how many chapters I can finish before the new year, shall we?- Shadow


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

After weeks of silence, the angels decided to put themselves back on the map by wiping out an entire biker bar.

There was no way Sam and Dean weren't going to investigate. Gadreel was about one step away from full on panic because of the very real possibility of being discovered by other angels, and Sam really couldn't blame him. Just the night before Gadreel had informed Sam that they were less than a week away from Gadreel being able to retrieve his previous vessel. But waiting for the remainder of that week wasn't an option. Upon further discussion, and after he calmed himself, Gadreel believed that he could remain dormant enough to be overlooked, at a glance at least.

It would have to be enough.

And then there was the matter of Castiel.

"You're not going, Cas!"

"You just expect me to sit here while my family is out there killing people?"

"Considering you're still on their most wanted list, _yes_!"

"No!"

"Dammit Cas!" Dean slammed the trunk so hard it rocked the suspension.

Sam wince. His brother must be really worked up if he's being that careless with the impala.

 _Should . . . should we intervene? Dean looks rather angry._

Concern was growing stronger from Gadreel, reminding Sam that the angel hadn't seen this part of his brother yet. _Let Cas handle it. Besides, Dean's not actually angry. This is what he's like when he's scared. Like I told you, Dean doesn't really know how to handle his emotions._

 _I see._

While they were staying safely out of the line of fire, Castiel continued to make his argument. "You told me once to clean up my mess. I can't do that by hiding behind wards."

"The angels falling _wasn't_ your fault! That's on Metatron, not you! And believe me when I say that son of a bitch is gonna pay, but the angel's are _not_ on you, man!"

Cas had never given Sam the details of what went down in heaven, and Sam hadn't asked. He had told Dean though, and Dean had given Sam the important bits while getting spectacularly drunk one evening. One thing that Sam wholeheartedly agreed with: Metatron would pay for what he did to Cas.

"Regardless, they are still my family. If they are responsible for killing, _I'm going_. Now, either I ride with you, or I'm taking one of the other vehicles in the garage and driving myself. Your choice."

Sam knew the moment Cas had won by the set of Dean's shoulders. He was still visibly simmering, but his shoulders dropped a fraction in defeat. Of course, that was when Dean noticed their mini audience standing by the garage entrance. He scowled at his brother before glaring between him and Castiel.

"Everyone just get in the damn car!"

 _Well, this promises to be an uncomfortable drive,_ Sam commented to Gadreel.

 **oOoOo**

Dean didn't really thaw until they got to the crime scene and all three of them realized the full scope of what they were looking at. It quickly became obvious that this bloodbath had been some sort of skirmish between two different groups of angels.

Sam took careful note of Castiel's vaguely crushed expression and Dean's sudden shift in gears to adjust to their friend's mood.

Reading the signs, Sam took a few steps further into the bar, giving the two of them the illusion of space. After a long moment he gently prodded at Gadreel's hiding spot. _Come on up Gad. Any other angels that were here are long gone, and I really could use an extra set of eyes for this._

Warmth bloomed from somewhere behind his ribcage and slowly spread to fill his entire frame. He could feel Gadreel just below his skin, and looking out through his eyes. The moment Gadreel's realization set in Sam could almost feel the recoil.

 _Oh, Father. What happened here?_

 _My best guess is that angels are starting to develop various factions. It's obvious someone disagreed about something._

A small tendril of sorrow. _One would think they would be sick of bloodshed by now_.

When Gadreel talked like that it made Sam wonder what the host used to be like. Before God abandoned ship, before the apocalypse, and long before Lucifer's rebellion. Cas often reminded Sam and Dean that angels were soldier's first, above all else, but the more he interacted with Gadreel, and the more he remembered of Gabriel, he began to doubt the truth of that statement. Or at least doubted that it was the whole truth. After all, Joshua had been Eden's gardener, was it really such a stretch to think that there had been others with similar job descriptions?

Regardless of how they used to be, Sam was all too familiar with the ruthless determination of the angels today.

 _Can you tell how many angels were here?_

There was a long moment and the odd sensation of stretching without moving a muscle. _It is difficult to say for certain. Over a dozen, easily, but with so much burnt up grace clouding up the room, I can not get an accurate count. I could not even tell you who was here for certain._

 _Any humans caught in the middle?_

 _I do not believe so._

Well, that was the closest thing to a silver lining as they were going to get.

Dean and Castiel stepped into Sam's field of vision. The angel's expression was hard, mouth set in a grim line as he walked the room. Dean was only two steps behind, pretending that he wasn't shooting worried glances at Cas' back.

 _I don't know what I'm going to do with the two of them._

A bubbly burst of amusement from Gadreel. _I thought you told me you were staying out of it._

 _If I have to deal with another five years of this I just might change my mind._

Gadreel's laughter was well worth it.

 **oOoOo**

In true Winchester Fashion, Dean took their whole crew out to the nearest bar in a really poorly disguised effort to distract Castiel from whatever dark place the angel's thoughts had taken him. Not long after their second round of beer Dean caught Sam's eye and gave a sharp subtle gesture with his hand.

 _And that's our cue_. Before Gadreel's confusion could really settle in Sam rose from his seat, quickly coming up with an excuse. "I'll be right back. I forgot to grab something from the car."

"You mind updating Charlie and Kev while you're out there? Reception is shit in here." Translation: take as long as humanly possible.

"Yeah, sure."

 _Is everything alright?_

As Sam wove through the other patrons of the bar, he smiled and silently invited Gadreel closer to the surface. _Everything's fine. Dean just wanted a bit of privacy to talk with Cas_.

He could feel the angel looking out from his eyes. _So where exactly are we going?_

 _The car. I wanted to text Charlie anyway. Kevin was on his second day with no sleep before we left, and I want to make sure he's taken a break since then. Dean will let us know when it's safe to come back._

As soon as they stepped outside, shooting off a quick update to Charlie as well as requesting one in return. That done, he pocketed his phone and lumbered towards the alley where Dean had parked the car. _You know, they might be awhile. If you would like, you can grab one of my books from my bag. Or You can grab my laptop from the trunk if you want to watch something. There's no WiFi here, but I have several movies saved on it._

And of course it was then, when Gadreel slipped into control, that a familiar voice piped up behind them.

"Well, this is certainly unexpected."

 **Author's Notes** : Hello All! I hope you all have had a good November and are ready for the Holiday Season to hit full swing! Three guesses to who just crashed the party and the first two don't count. Sorry for such a short and mildly disjointed chapter, but I assure you the next one is better and significantly longer. I did manage to get a lot of writing done this month, however, the scenes I've written are scattered so I'm currently playing connect the dots.

Thank you for the reviews and to my new watchers! I love you all and hope you continue to enjoy the ride! See you all very soon!-Shadow


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Well, this is certainly unexpected."

Fury and fear boiled up from Sam as they turned towards the speaker. In an instant, Gadreel's blade fell into his waiting hand, ready to protect himself and Sam if need be.

"Oh, come on. Is that really necessary?"

Sam hissed something scathing, but thankfully didn't push for control and so the words didn't come.

Gadreel stood tall, but kept himself as neutral as possible. "You tell me."

"Time with the Winchesters made you paranoid I see. Considering I was the one who freed you I expected a better reception. Honestly, where's the gratitude?"

"What do you want, Metatron?"

"Just to talk. I heard Ezekiel was helping Heaven's least favorite humans, but instead I find you. And riding Sam Winchester, no less. Color me surprised. What tale did you spin to manage that?"

"Dean prayed for help and I answered his call."

"And apparently claimed to be Ezekiel. Why Ezekiel?"

Even though anger was still focused on Metatron, Sam's curiosity curled at the back of his mind, listening for Gadreel's answer. "They say he is a good and . . . _honorable_ angel."

"Ah. Everything they say you are not."

Panic was rising within him, fears of further persecution preying on him. "The stories about me, they are not true!"

He must have been projecting more than he intended, because there was Sam, radiating reassurance.

"And yet you spent countless thousands of years locked in Heaven's darkest dungeon," Metatron said pointedly. "You were once one of the most respected angels in the Host. And yet here you are, the mighty Wall of God, demoted to a simple bodyguard. The whole situation is just so tragic."

"The Winchesters help many people. I am doing good by aiding them."

Metatron gave a little snort. "You think your slate will be wiped clean by helping those two? All that time residing in Sam's brain, have you even _looked_ at what they've done? I hate to break it to you, but the Winchesters here have a poor history when it comes to allies. High turnover rate, you could say." He eyed him speculatively. Analyzing. "But that's not why you're here, is it? Posing as Ezekiel. I'm curious, is Castiel convinced as well?"

A muscle in Gadreel's jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth together.

"Ah. That must be painful for you, given the circumstance. If he knew your true name . . . well, I guess he wouldn't know your connection to him anyway. I can only imagine."

"Do _not_ speak to me of Castiel," Gadreel warned, gripping his blade tighter. Sam was beginning to swirl with questions, and it was all he could do to appease him with promises. _Later, I'll answer later._

Metatron's hand rose in a non-threatening gesture. "I'm not trying to offend you. I'm trying to show you that I'm sympathetic to your situation."

"And why is that exactly?"

"I just want to help, really. You see, I need someone capable to bring about a new era in heaven. You want to restore your good name, and then some. Together we could bring glory back to heaven."

"I am doing good now, with-"

"With the Winchesters, I know." He scoffed. He pointed a finger at him. "Do you have any clue how many times Castiel has died for them? How many times he's thrown himself into the fire?"

Pain echoed back and forth between Sam and Gadreel. Sam's stemming from guilt, wishing he could have done more, to change the past. Memories of those instances flashing along the surface, sharp and vibrant. Gadreel's own pain came from his recent observations and his total understanding on why Castiel would do such a thing. "Castiel is capable of making his own choices."

"You would knowingly let him sacrifice himself for a human? Some parent _you_ are."

 _Wait, what?_

 _Later, Sam, I beg you, I'll give you answers later, just not now, please._

"Fine, I'll sweeten the pot for you then. What if I could give you something you desire above all else?"

His heart felt lodged in his throat. "Impossible."

"Not entirely." He gave a considering nod. "True, I can't restore Castiel's memories. That kid has been rewired so many times it's amazing he has any personality left. But at least he's alive. However, I can offer you something better than that."

 _Gadreel, you're not actually listening to him, are you?_

"In exchange for rebuilding heaven, I can give you Gabriel."

"Gabriel is dead." His voice broke on that sentence. It was amazing that he could form words at all, much less those in particular. It was the first time he admitted it aloud, even if he had long since accepted it. "Gabriel died by Lucifer's hand."

"He did." Metatron grinned. "But you weren't the only one trusted by God, there are ways. I can return him to you. Just think of it. Your family, alive and well, and your good name restored to the Host as you help bring about the new age. It will be your own perfect paradise."

His whole chest ached with longing, but he forced himself not to react. He didn't trust himself to speak, he couldn't trust Metatrons words, as much as he wished to. As much as he wanted it, there had to be a price. There was _always_ a price.

He forcibly reminded himself of what he had now. Things had been going so well with the Winchesters and the group of friends that they had gathered around themselves. Castiel knew him by name, if not by relation, and was slowly becoming more comfortable in his company. There had been smiles and laughter, even in the middle of dark times, and it had been _good_.

But Gabriel . . . oh Father, _Gabriel_.

 _Gadreel_ , Sam's voice floated up through the chaos, reminding him that he was not alone. When his charge realized he had his attention, he continued. _Gadreel_ , _Metatron was the one who stole Cas's grace. Dean said he cut it out of him._

Those words sliced through his turmoil like a knife, tearing away all the fear and panic and indecision.

Anger ignited within him in a way he had not felt in eons, and yet even that paled to this.

How _dare_ this angel come to him after what he had done to his fledgling? How _dare_ he stand there and pretend to be compassionate and sympathetic, using his mate to sway him to his side?

Fury poured into him making his wings flare and fire ignite behind his eyes.

Many had thought that he had been an ill match for Gabriel. Too calm, too amiable, and most thought that Gabriel would have been better suited to someone with a bit more fire, more like himself. Yes, Gabriel had been more tempermental between the pair of them. When roused, his temper had been very much like the weather. He could turn and rage like a hurricane, hit with all the inevitable force of a tsunami and strike with the suddenness of an earthquake. They forgot that Gadreel had caught his eye for a reason, that even at his worst Gadreel would refuse to be intimidated by the archangel. His stubbornness had earned him a loyal mate and their Father's favor, and few knew that he could be just as fierce as the archangels, though less powerful.

Once he had been known as the Wall of God, and now he once more had something to protect, to stand guard over. Only this time . . . _this time_ he would not be manipulated into leaving his post.

Metatron would learn just how immovable he could become.

"If Gabriel were alive he would run you through for what you have done. Not just to our family, but to the host as a whole." Thunder rumbled as Gadreel's rage continued to grow, his voice like stone. "If you come near any member of my flock again, Winchesters included, I will strike you down where you stand. Do we have an understanding?"

There was a long pause where Metatron simply stood and stared, eyes hardening. "Fine. But remember this, Gadreel. When your little house of cards comes crashing down around you, remember that I gave you a chance."

Then Metatron flew away.

 **Author's Note:** I was saving this chapter for this weekend for a few reasons. The Gift has been a joy to write (there's plenty more to come) but this was one of a few scenes I was dying to write. Gadreel confronted by Metatron, but instead of being backed into a corner when he felt his agreement with Dean was becoming unstable, he has friends, he has SUPPORT. So my gift to you is me sharing one of my favorite scenes earlier than I expected.

Also: this weekend is extra special to me. I'm turning 30 on Sunday and my gift to myself is my first ever Supernatural Convention. I have met so many wonderful people, and new friends. I feel like I'm 13 again and feel like I have so much energy I could share it with a touch. But I can't, so I share this instead!

I love you all and I hope the beginning of your December is full of warmth and joy! Happy Holidays! - Shadow


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Gadreel's fury was awe-inspiring.

Being a vessel was a fiercely intense thing, especially when the angel you were hosting was experiencing emotional extremes. Sam remembered Lucifer's fury, the subarctic chill of it, the razor sharp edge of it. It had been all ice spears and serrated edges, focused and precise, and designed to do maximum damage to it's intended target.

Gadreel's fury was nothing like that.

While Lucifer had been cold, Gadreel was blazing heat. It was raw, and hot, and vastly powerful, like a super volcano awakened at long last. But the molten lava swirling within Gadreel did not seek to destroy, oh no, it swirled and thickened around Sam like layers of armor, touching him without pain. Guarding. _Protecting_.

But Metatron was gone for now, and the last thing they needed was to draw more unwanted attention to themselves.

Sam reached into that surrounding heat, stretching right into that molten core without fear. _Gad?_

The swirling heat paused and Sam knew that he had his attention.

 _We should go get Dean and Cas and get the hell out of here._

And just like that, the fire and fury ebbed and receded, and Gadreel began to fall back into himself. His response was quiet and dull. _Of course Sam._

Sam grabbed hold of the angel before he could make a full retreat, knowing that fear was probably nipping back at him. _Hey. Trust me a little here. I can fill them in on Metatron being on to you, but the rest? You and I can have that chat when we get home, and we'll sort out what you're comfortable sharing later. Okay?_

 _I . . . yes. Okay._

With that, Sam was in motion.

Dean and Cas had both been startled from their quiet talk when Sam swooped back into the bar, and dropped money on their table to pay for the rest of their tab. "We got to go," he told them shortly. "Zeke's cover is blown."

Dean hissed " _shit_ " under his breath, before hauling himself out of his seat. Not even three minutes later their group was in the impala and high-tailing it back to the bunker. The called Charlie and kept her on speaker so everyone could be updated at once.

Sam gave them the cut version while Gadreel listened just below the surface, practically vibrating with tension.

"Nothing about that sounds good," Charlie commented, almost absently. Soft tapping in the background suggested that she was typing up notes. "Guy padlocks the gates and is now sniffing around for recruits? What the hell? And why Gad?"

Sam thought on that. "Vulnerability," he answered. "It sounded like he thought we didn't know his identity. Maybe he planned to manipulate him by threatening exposure?"

"Okay," Dean allowed from the driver's seat. "But why?"

Kevin scoffed, the sound muffled through the speaker. "You have two tablets and someone who can read them. If there's something there that he doesn't want you to know, what do you _think_ he would do?"

The tension twisted into something darker and self deprecating, and it was all Sam could do to keep Gadreel present. _Hey, it's okay._

 _No_ , Gadreel whispered, soft but firm. _Nothing about this is okay. Metatron is malicious in his manipulations and needs to be stopped_.

Sam knew that none of them would disagree with him.

 **OoOoO**

Thankfully, once they made it back to the Bunker it didn't take much for Sam to retreat back to his room. For the sake of privacy, Sam and Gadreel agreed to hold their talk in a dreamscape. Plus, Sam felt this was a talk that should happen "face to face". Or, you know, as close as they could come to it when they were inhabiting the same body.

Gadreel constructed an exact replica of the library, the surroundings comfortable and familiar. The angel was wearing the face of his previous vessel, the form as tall and broad as Sam himself. Sam hadn't seen this version of his friend since he first spoke with Gadreel, back when he had been completely bent on healing Sam, nearly killing himself in the process.

Which brought Sam's thoughts back to why they were here in the first place.

Gadreel sat at the table In Sam's usual spot, elbows planted wide, and face periodically being hidden by one or both of his hands. He looked . . . lost.

Sam pulled out the chair across from him, making Gadreel look up at him.

"I do not know where to begin," he confessed quietly. "Was there anything you wished to know first?"

Their encounter with Metatron was still fresh in Sam's mind, so he was full to bursting with questions. But there was one thing he wanted to clarify, just in case he had somehow misunderstood. After all, Sam was sure he lacked a lot of context. "Is Cas- was what Metatron said true? About you being Cas' parent?"

Closed eyes and a soft, slow exhale. "Yes."

"That's kind of a big thing for Cas not to know."

Gadreel's eyes opened, his fingertips resting lightly at his temples. "It was part of my punishment. Castiel was so young at the time, that the rest of the Host believed he could be saved from my influence. Castiel was taken from my mate and had his memories of me purged."

"Shit." As if Sam needed another reason to hate Heaven. "That's harsh."

One hand closed into a loose fist to fall gently to the table, the other still supporting his temple. Gadreel looked more than lost now, he looked tired. "I imagine it was far worse for Gabriel at the time. If the guards were to be believed, they altered Castiel's memories of him as well. Thaddeus claimed that they forced him to be present for it, so he could introduce himself after."

Harsh didn't even begin to cover that one. That had been cruelty, pure and simple. Sam felt sick as he remembered that day they had trapped Gabriel in a ring of holy oil, and demanded Cas back. He remembered the bitter exchange after Gabriel had snapped him free, and the tense exchange between the two angels.

 _"Hello Gabriel."_

 _"Hey bro."_

With that, the penny finally dropped and Sam saw the whole picture.

Sam has originally thought that Gabriel's bitterness had stemmed from being discovered, and then later for being dragged forcibly back into Heaven's politics. But now, oh hell.

Cas was _Gabriel's kid._

Cas had thrown in his lot with Sam and Dean, and Gabriel had known exactly where Heaven was steering the Winchesters. But he gave Cas back to them anyway, even knowing all that.

Every interaction they had ever had with Gabriel was painted in a whole new light. He remembered Gabriel's face, illuminated by fire, and remembered the words that the archangel had spit at them.

 _"I love my father, my brothers. Love them. But watching them turn on each other? Tear at each other's throats? I couldn't bear it! Okay? So I left."_

Something twisted In Sam's gut. "That's why he left Heaven."

Gadreel nodded, swallowed, then whispered. "I believe he tried to retrieve me first. Obviously, he was unsuccessful."

"Oh, _hell_!" It was Sam's turn to bury his face in his hands, sliding his fingers up until he was pushing his hair back. "So you and Gabriel. I shouldn't be surprised, especially not after . . ." Sam swallowed. "I'm sorry you had to find out through me."

Gadreel smiled at him, small, soft, and forgiving. "Don't be. I'm thankful that you met him at all. At least I know what became of him."

Sam ached. Everything he'd learned before now slotted properly into place. It was so much. And Gadreel, broken, kind Gadreel, had been carrying this alone. He'd had so much stolen from him and he still . . .

"Are you ever going to tell Cas?"

Gadreel pressed his lips together and sighed. "That he speaks to me with any sort of fondness at all is a miracle, and one I don't want to jeopardize. Perhaps one day, but not now. He does not need me like he once did."

"You always need family."

A warmer smile this time. "And this is why I am grateful Castiel was the one to find your brother. For you are his family now. I am certain Gabriel thought the same as well."

"I don't know why you'd think that."

"I'm aware that Gabriel's time on earth changed him, but when it came to our fledgeling we were always in agreement. If Gabriel doubted your loyalty to Castiel, he would have never relinquished him to you. He would have never been swayed."

Something lodged in Sam's throat, thoughts pulled hard to the very last time he saw Gabriel, standing between them and Lucifer. Standing up for them even when he didn't believe they could change their destiny. Was that why he stayed? Was that why he saved them? Just to buy Cas a little more time with them?

He must have been projecting because a gentle hand was tugging at Sam's sleeve making him release the death grip he had on his hair.

He forced his throat to work. "Why would he do that?"

"Because I would have done the same in his place."

 **Author's Note** : Special thanks to my good friend Dawn, who loves this story with a fiery passion and kicked my butt until I finished this chapter. And thank you to my reviewers and watchers who enjoy this story as well! Happy reading everybody! -Shadow


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

 _Are you ready for this?_

 _As much as one can be ready for these things._

Gadreel stared out at the small brick building across the street, unconsciously leaning back in his seat.

This was a meeting that he had been putting off.

Everyone had been left rattled after their encounter with Metatron, and what it could mean for the immediate future. The Winchesters had their ears to the ground, keeping an ear out for any further activities from the developing angel factions, but there had been nothing but silence. Kevin was now convinced that whatever spell or ritual he was decoding had Metatron worried, And had thrown himself deeper into his work. So much so that even the ever-energetic Charlie had trouble keeping up with him.

Whatever they were on the brink of, it was huge, and Gadreel knew they would be better off with more bodies on the ground.

But that didn't stop the uncertainty that swirled within him. Sam's recovery was complete, but still he hesitated. He had become accustomed to Sam's constant interactive presence, and worried that this final step would cripple the friendship that they have built.

 _Hey now, none of that_ , Sam scolded gently. _Just because we're not sharing headspace anymore doesn't mean we stop being friends. All it means is more privacy. Hate to say it Gad, but I think you're stuck with me._

A small smile flitted across his lips.

"Alright Zeke, you sure you wanna do this solo?"

Gadreel turned to Dean. The man was in the driver's seat, one hand sitting lightly on the wheel, with his free elbow resting on the backrest. His posture was loose and casual, but Sam quietly pointed out the tight expression lingering around his eyes that betrayed his concern.

Gadreel's smile grew a little wider. "I am sure, thank you Dean."

"Okay," he acknowledged shortly. He tapped the steering wheel for a moment. "If you're not out in twenty, I'm coming in after you."

Gadreel ignored Sam's knowing laughter. "Of course."

And with that, he opened the car door. There was no point putting this off any longer.

The bar was completely empty of patrons when Gadreel stepped through the door. The scent of cigarette smoke still lingered in the air, but the room was relatively clean, the floor swept and stools all tucked neatly into their respective tables. It was quiet too, the only noise was the low hum of music coming from a corner speaker, and the sharp _clink_ of glass being cleaned and then put away.

 _Must have been a slow night_ , Sam commented. Gadreel silently agreed.

The door was louder than expected as it slammed shut behind them.

The bartender didn't bother looking at them. "We're closing in a few minutes. If you want a drink, come back tomorrow."

"Hello Jason."

The man paused, actually looked up, then carefully set down the glass he was cleaning. He took in Gadreel's posture, eyes lighting up in recognition. "I didn't think you were coming back."

"I'm sorry I left as abruptly as I did. It must have been confusing for you." He took a seat at the bar, neatly clasped his hands together and rested them on the counter. "The circumstances were dire and a life was at stake."

The man nodded slowly, lips pressed firmly together, then side-stepped to finish putting things away. "So what happens now?"

"That is, as before, your choice to make."

"It is, huh." He tossed his rag into the sink by the speedwell. Stormy eyes examined him, assessing. He gestured at the length of Sam's body. "Doesn't seem like you really need me any more."

"This . . ." Gadreel stared down at Sam's hands, searching for the correct words. "This was a temporary arrangement. Sam was beyond my ability to heal while residing with you. A more extreme method was required to save his life, and there wasn't much time."

Gadreel was not proud of it, and shame still burned hotly within him, but he couldn't find it within himself to regret it. Too many positive things had come from since then.

Jason seemed to consider Gadreel's statement carefully, like he was testing the weight of it. "Was he as bad off as me?" No bitterness, just honest curiosity.

Sam brushed against him, a half-thought question flitting through his mind. Gadreel shared a short memory, of when he found Jason, alone and bleeding out at a bus stop in the middle of the night. He had been the victim of a mugging. Two men had taken his cash and the bottle of trazodone he had stashed in his backpack. One of the men had a knife.

Jason had been lonely and depressed, but he hadn't been ready to die.

Gadreel mentally compared that night to when he first laid eyes on Sam, and then finally answered, "Infinitely worse. On a molecular level."

"Wow. Wow, okay . . ." A hand ran through short hair. "So what now? Really."

"I made you a promise when I first came to you, I would still keep it if you still wish me to. However, I feel it necessary to warn you of the dangers beforehand. My situation has changed since I first came to you. The risk to myself and those around me has increased dramatically."

Jason offered him a flat look. "Are you going to drop me like yesterday's newspaper if the going gets rough?"

The _again_ was left unsaid, but Gadreel heard it all the same.

"No." It was a promise as well as an assurance.

"Well then! No point in waiting around, now is there? Yes."

 **oOoOo**

Sam was a bit disoriented in the wake of Gadreel vacating the premises. He focused on his breathing and staying vertical. As he swayed on his feet a large hand fell to his shoulder, steadying him.

"Are you alright Sam?"

He looked up at Jason's face and saw Gadreel peering back at him. Sam remembered Jimmy and the stark contrast he had been when compared to Cas. This was exactly the same.

He was so stunned in the realization that they really weren't sharing space anymore that it took a moment for him to process the question. He offered his friend a smile and patted the hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "Yeah, man. I'm good. Just feeling a little hollowed out is all. We should go before Dean decides to storm the place."

"Of course," Gadreel agreed, giving Sam space so they could make their way to the door.

Sam huffed a laugh. "It's strange hearing you _outside_ my head. Good, but you know. Wierd."

The two of them fell in step, and Sam couldn't help that his eyes kept darting over to Gadreel. It really was strange. After so long, having the angel here, walking beside him, was surreal. Because he was paying such close attention to his friend, he noticed the instant Gadreel stiffened, his step faltering.

"Sam."

He followed his gaze across the street. Sam's heart leapt into his throat even as his adrenaline spiked.

Three men and a woman had gathered around the impala, the small circle all facing them. Clearly waiting.

The driver side door open and empty.

Sam took note of the blood on the ground, eyes tracking it to the figure on the ground, chest heaving.

 _Fuck!_ Experience had him taking notes and assessing the situation even as his heart raced. The woman was a brunette, not a redhead, so she wasn't Abaddon, thank God. But she was clearly the one in charge, and her black eyes were on full display.

"What did you do to my brother?" Sam growled, hands itching to draw Ruby's knife from it's hiding soon in his jacket. Gadreel's hand brushed his back, stilling him for now.

The woman gave a saccharine smile. "Ah, Sam. How nice of you to join us!" She strolled forward. "You know, I was actually disappointed when I got this assignment. It sounded like bullshit, to be honest, not to mention _boring_! I mean, what were the odds that the Great Winchester Brothers would show up for this guy." She made a gesture that clearly indicated Gadreel's body. "But my Queen insisted, and she will be so pleased that her tip off panned out so well. Plus a pet angel as a bonus!"

Sam and Gadreel shared a surreptitious glance. They may no longer be sharing close quarters, but Sam could tell they came to the same conclusion.

 _Metatron_.

That son of a bitch!

"Exorcizamus te, omnis-"

Dean's gasping words ended in a choking gasp as the head demon held out a casual hand and _squeezed_. She tsked and turned to look over her shoulder. "Sweetheart, it's rude to interrupt a lady."

She wasn't even halfway through her sentence before Gadreel was in motion. Sam drew Ruby's knife and charged after him, but by the time he engaged his first demon, Gadreel had already smote the woman with a touch and had buried his blade in the heart of one of the others.

Sam grappled with his opponent before sinking his blade home, the demon's eyes and mouth lighting up before the whole body collapsed. He turned to help Gadreel with the last one, but found that there was no need.

Gadreel grabbed the remaining demon by the throat, lifting him and pinning him to the hood of the car. The creature tried to make a run for it, tried to smoke out, but Gadreel clamped his free hand over his mouth, the palm glowing faintly, trapping him. "Oh, no you don't. I have a task for you." He leaned in eyes flashing blue and skin alight with displayed power. "There's a message I would like you to deliver. You run back to your queen, and you tell her that the Winchesters are under _my_ protection. Tell her what happened here, and that her informant left out vital information, for I am no ordinary angel. Tell her that if she disregards my warning, then her reign is over. Can you do this for me?"

Wide eyes and a quick, jerking nod.

"Good. Now leave us."

Gadreel released him and watched with dispassionate eyes as the demon disappeared in a blink.

"Jesus _fuck_ Zeke," Dean rasped. "Remind me not to piss you off."

"Dean!" Sam swooped in to where his brother was trying to keep his feet, ducking under his right arm to keep him upright. "Are you okay?"

"Fucking peachy."

"No you are not." Gadreel had crouched to retrieve his blade, but now he was looking at Dean like he was seeing through him. Which, in all honesty, he probably was. Regardless, his tone was as cutting as his gaze as he came closer. "You have extensive internal bleeding, and four broken ribs on the verge of piercing your lungs."

"Not the worst thing I've ever been through."

"Nor I, but that's beside the point. May I?"

The way Dean leaned harder on Sam was very telling. "Dude, knock yourself out."

Gadreel laid a hand on Dean's neck and immediately Sam felt his brother take deeper, more even breaths, and the tension drained from his limbs. Gadreel pulled his hand away, but as he did his palm paused to hovered over Dean's arm. It wasn't long, a fraction of a second really, but Sam noted the slightly pinched expression and made a note to ask about it later.

They had bigger problems.

"Thanks Zeke." Dean gave Sam a brief squeeze before pulling away. "Anyone else thinking that Meta-dick is behind this bullshit?"

"Without a doubt," Gadreel replied firmly.

"Well that's fucking great." Dean rubbed absently at his throat. "Bright side is we did what we came here to do. Can we go home now?"

 **Author's Note** : Hello Lovelies! Thank you all for your wonderful comments, I adore every one of them. My plans are officially in full motion, so the real question is: _Are you guys ready for this?_


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"You guys better be hungry! We've got a mountain of Chinese food that needs eating!"

"Since when do you need help eating food?"

"Shut up Sammy."

Gadreel watched Dean in bemusement, but dutifully placed the bags he was carrying on the counter next to Sam's. Charlie appeared under Sam's arm, snatching up a carton and popping it open to sniff at some noodles. She fished inside, pinching a single noodle between her fingers and popping it in her mouth. She hummed happily.

She turned to Gadreel, eyeing his vessel. "Looking good Gad! Not my type, _obviously_ , but, well, you know." She gave him a thumbs up and a grin.

"Thank you, Charlie." Gadreel smiled fondly. "Jason is a good man. I'm grateful he consented to be my vessel once more."

"So, smooth sailing then?" She went in for another noodle, only to squawk indignantly when the carton was plucked from her hands and held out of reach.

"At least use a fork, you heathen!" Dean scowled. "Better yet, why don't you and Sam drag Kevin in to actually eat something. Make yourselves useful."

"Ooookay then!" Sam grabbed Charlie by the shoulders and steered her firmly towards the exit. "Come on Charlie. Dean's just pissed off because a couple of demons got the drop on him. I'll fill you in on the way."

Dean glowered at their retreating backs, but his defensive stance collapsed the moment they were out of sight. He gave Gadreel a sidelong glance. "What? Nothing to add, Zeke?"

Gadreel held up his hands in peace. "Not really, no. If you wish to talk, then I shall listen. But in the meantime, is there anything else I can do?"

"Grab Cas for me? Family dinner won't be complete without him."

 _Family_. Gadreel's whole body warmed at his inclusion, that one small offhand sentence from Dean saying a whole wealth of things.

Gadreel had intended to speak with Castiel anyway, so it was an easy thing to agree to. "Certainly."

 **oOoOo**

He stirred to a gentle hand and a low voice.

Castiel hadn't meant to fall asleep.

Before the others left this morning Dean had lent him one of his books. An old favorite, if Castiel had interpreted him right, and he had settled himself into the armchair in the corner of his room to enjoy it. Though he must have been more tired that he thought, because he couldn't recall anything past chapter twelve.

Taking a deep inhale, Castiel blinked and looked up at the one who had awakened him. While the face of the man before him was unfamiliar, there was no mistaking the deep scars and slowly healing wounds marring the grace. If Castiel still had his wings he would have stretched them out in greeting, but his grace still gave the accompanying pulse, even if he couldn't complete the gesture. "Hello Gadreel. It's good to see you made it back safely."

There was a shimmer behind him, a fleeting impression of mangled wings stretched widely, and then nothing. The older angel smiled at him. It was interesting to note how it looked exactly the same, even on a different face. It was warm, and honest, with maybe just a touch of melancholy. "Hello Castiel. My apologies for waking you, but Dean brought you dinner."

"Oh, alright." He supposed he was hungry, now that it was brought to his attention. Caught somewhere between angel and human, his body still needed to eat and sleep, but the necessity of both seemed greatly decreased. Dean had taken it upon himself to feed him regularly after Castiel missed several meals in a row.

He made to get up. "Shall we then?"

Gadreel held out a hand to halt him. "Would you mind us speaking first?"

"Of course." He made an awkward gesture with his hand, leading to Gadreel sitting on the bed across from him.

Gadreel's posture was stiff, his palms coming to rest carefully at his knees. There was a heavy beat of silence before he could meet Castiel's curious gaze. "I wish to inquire about something potentially private in nature. Forgive me if I am overstepping my bounds, but I am concerned."

There was an inquiring head tilt, and a silent invitation to continue.

Gadreel's voice came slowly. "During the retrieval of my vessel, we encountered a group of demons, and Dean was injured. I healed him of course, but then I saw-" The older angel paused, clearly unsure of himself, then bluntly asked "Is Dean even aware of the mark he carries?"

It wasn't until after Castiel fully processed _Dean was injured_ that he even heard what Gadreel was asking. When he did, he had a clear understanding of what Gadreel was referring to.

Over the years Castiel had made it a point _not_ to think about the claim mark, for what little good it did him. He saw it every time he looked at Dean's soul, even if the physical manifestation of it had long been removed.

Frankly, it was startling to speak with another angel who didn't know the story of Castiel's botched retrieval mission in Hell. It was a painfully sore point for Castiel, and one that other angels would never speak of directly, but never hesitated to poke at whenever they disagreed with him, or questioned his judgment.

Castiel averted his eyes. "He can no longer perceive it, so he believes it to be gone. It doesn't matter anyway."

Gadreel's mouth fell open, face dancing between shock and _outrage_. "How does a claim _not matter_?" That outrage was the most passionate emotion Castiel had seen from him. It gave his whole figure a heavy presence, one that could not be ignored. "I have seen the two of you interact, Castiel. How can you sit there and say that a claim _does not matter_?"

This . . . was different.

Claims and bonds were such a rare thing among the host, that Castiel had only ever encountered half a dozen pairs in his lifetime. Those involved were so closely watched and scrutinized that it effectively deterred most from attempting anything stronger than friendship. Castiel had been told again and again how such a thing could be used against you. How one's failure could lead to the other's downfall.

To claim an intended, or worse yet, to complete a full bond, was disdainful at best. To place a claim on a human was unprecedented.

That was . . . until Castiel pulled the Righteous Man out of hell.

Disapproval would have been a severe understatement.

Yet . . . Gadreel did not seem upset about the claim itself, but rather but rather Castiel's attitude towards it.

Not knowing how his brother would react, Castiel opted to answer him with a simple truth. "It doesn't matter because Dean doesn't remember."

"He . . ." Gadreel flinched, his whole body rocking back ever so slightly. "Why would he not remember?"

Castiel looked at the floor, the memories weighing like a stone in the pit of his stomach, but still, he answered, with a voice like lead. "It was from our journey out of hell. It took two months to fight our way free. When we surfaced, Dean refused to return without me. Heaven decided that such distraction for the Righteous Man would be detrimental for the path that lay before him. Attachment would lead to failing the mission."

That had been drilled at him relentlessly during the apocalypse. After Castiel's claim became evident, his superiors scrambled for a way to use it to their advantage. Castiel remained assigned to Dean, if only because they thought he would be easier to steer that way. But then the Winchesters became more unruly, and Castiel's loyalties began to come into question.

"The mark was hidden after I had been brought in for retraining. Dean has never inquired after it, so I just . . . never said anything."

Gadreel's jaw flexed, lips pressed tightly together. Pain and something profound flashed in his eyes. His expression crumpled and he slumped forward, forehead pressed hard to the knuckles of his clasped hands, as if in prayer. His voice was barely audible, and brittle as glass when he said, "But you remember."

A nod. "I remember."

Gadreel looked . . . _wounded_. His grace almost writhed, as if Castiel's story physically pained him. Eventually he lifted his gaze to meet Castiel's eyes, the sheer understanding in it pierced right through him. "Do you ever wish you could restore his memories?"

"Of course I do. But still being in a position to create new ones is a blessing, and one I would never want to risk. Wouldn't you agree?"

The air shimmered once more, and Castiel caught a clear glimpse of Gadreel's wings, sparse limbs painted with blood, and charcoal, and smudged with blue and violet. Their great expanse curled forward, as if to cover Castiel, before swiftly pulling back to fold around himself. The expression Gadreel now wore was one that he could not read. His posture straightened, but relaxed, as if settling.

"Yes," Gadreel answered softly. "Yes, I completely agree."

 **oOoOo**

Raised voices diverted their path from the kitchen to the library.

At the head of the table a disheveled Kevin was shouting excitedly, almost incoherently, with a couple sheets of paper clenched in his fists as he swung them about. Charlie and Sam were clearly attempting to calm the little prophet down, while Dean just stood at the other side of the table, well away from the commotion.

Castiel spoke before Gadreel could find his words. "What's happened?"

Dean shrugged. "Hey, don't ask me, I just got here."

"It's a RITUAL!" Kevin shouted, triumphantly, waving one of the papers in the air. "The bastard didn't want me to find it, but _I did_ , and no wonder he was worried! With this he's gonna be _toast!"_

"Jesus, Kev, just tell us what it is already!" Dean barked.

"It's a ritual to- well, it's more like one part spell, with a summoning compo- Hey!"

Sam used his reach to snatch the waving paper from Kevin's hand, and read, " _Restoration of the Four Pillars of Heaven_. By 'the Four Pillars', what do-"

"The _Archangels_!" Kevin jabbed at the paper once before whirling to grab the original stone tablet and began gesturing with that instead. "Apparently, Heaven was never intended to run without four archangels to support it, and balance it out. In the off chance one of them was taken down, _this_ was supposed to be used to bring them back!"

Gadreel swayed on his feet, forcing to brace himself against the nearest chair. Thankfully, Castiel was a few steps ahead and did not notice.

As Kevin continued to go over the finer points of the translation, Gadreel's hope began to soar.

"So!" Charlie clapped her hands together, and bounced on her heels. "Which Archangel are we using this phoenix down on?"

"Gabriel," Sam replied instantly. He shot Gadreel a glance. "Technically, Michael and Lucifer aren't actually dead, and trust me when I say that we are better off without Raphael in our lives."

"This is all great, really, it is, but what makes you think he'll volunteer for this crap? Metatron? Our pesky Knight of Hell problem? The dude barely helped out last time!"

"If you call _sacrificing himself_ to let us drop Satan back in the cage ' _barely helping_ '. Come on Dean! You know he's our best bet."

"I agree with Sam."

"Aw, Cas! Not you too!"

"Even if he refused to help us directly, he was still a powerful ally to have. Remember: Gabriel was also Loki. Maybe with his help we could have a chance to unseal heaven."

"That's all great guys, but we might have a tiny problem."

All eyes fell back on Kevin, who was pouring over his notes so intently that he was unaware of the four sets of eyes now firmly focused on him.

Dean made a rolling gesture with his hand. "Well, you gonna share with the class, or leave us all hanging?"

Kevin looked up, scratched the back of his head, then lifted his remaining sheet of paper. "According to _this_ bit, we need something connected to whoever we're trying to bring back. I think it's supposed to be like some sort of anchor."

Gadreel felt as if his heart was lodged in his throat.

Dean snapped his fingers and turned to Sam. "The Casa Erotica DVD! Do we still have that?"

Sam shook his head grimly. "It was in Bobby's house."

"Shit."

"Well, there goes that." Charlie collapsed in a chair, planted her elbow on the table and plopped her chin in the palm of her hand. "So, all those all-nighters were for nothing? Well, that sucks."

"Use me."

Everyone turned their attention to where Gadreel was standing, still braced against the chair. The intensity of it made him want to hide, even when he caught Sam's sympathetic expression. He knew better than anyone how hard this was for Gadreel.

Dean tugged on his ear as if shaking something loose. "Come again?"

"Use me as the anchor," Gadreel clarified. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and forced himself to continue. "You will never find anything else with a stronger connection."

There was Castiel of course, but he was currently missing the portion of his grace originally gifted to him by Gabriel, but Gadreel didn't dare to broach that topic. This was difficult enough, especially in the wake of the talk the two of them just had. He was hesitant to lose the ground he had gained with Castiel, but this . . .

He could not let this go.

Dean frowned at him. "Dude, Cas said that you've been locked up since forever. How does that make you qualified?"

"You forget that I am much older that Castiel. When I was accused of my crimes, Gabriel was the only one to believe my innocence. He was the _only one_ interested to hear my side of the story. The other archangels claimed him biased, given the circumstances."

Of course, his fledgling saw the implication.

Castiel inhaled sharply, those blue eyes so very wide. "You were bondmates."

Gadreel grit his teeth, and gave a single slow nod.

Between this, and their earlier conversation, Gadreel doubted his voice at the moment.

Charlie turned towards Castiel. "They were what?"

Clearly, most of the humans in the room didn't seem to get the full gravity of what he said, but Castiel pressed on, looking thunderstruck. "Gabriel had a Bonded. How did I not know this?"

A small sad smile graced Gadreel's lips, and he forced himself to speak through the lump in his throat. "It would seem that Heaven's outlook on bonded pairs has changed in the wake of my failures."

 **Author's Note** : The time has come my lovelies! Who else is ready for our favorite Trickster? I know I am! As always, feel free to let me know what you think, and for those who want chat, you can PM me or find me on Tumblr: sharysisnhmoonshadow. Just want to Lurk? That's cool too, this is a judgment-free zone. Until next time, Happy Reading!- Shadow


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

There was a massive amount of preparations to be done before the ritual, which, while understandable, was rather tedious. Thankfully, most of the necessary ingredients to the spell component were already on hand. The Men of Letters had kept a rather impressive collection of supplies, and had been quite meticulous when it came to proper storage of their more delicate items.

Sam and Dean had both gawked at the large jar filled to the brim with phoenix ash. Castiel had leaned towards Gadreel, and explained that when they had need of some a few years back, they had to resort to time travel to procure some.

However, as large as their collection was, a few smaller items were needed, and one rare one, so it took nearly two weeks to gather everything. Then there was the matter of location. Everyone agreed that the resurrection of an angel, much less an Archangel, would likely result in a massive concentration of energy. The original plan had been to perform the ritual within the confines of the bunker, but more open space was required. Also, there was the risk of the more permanent wards being compromised from sheer magical impact and overload. After some scouting, they agreed upon a nearby clearing down by the river. It was within easy walking distance to the bunker, and a thick line of trees lining the edge provided ample cover if needed.

Now they were ready.

Castiel and Dean were currently warding the perimeter of the ritual site, to assure that they would not be interrupted. Those wards would fail by the end of it, but they only needed to hold long enough for the ritual to be completed.

All Gadreel could do now was wait for night to fall and try to calm his nerves.

He sat on his bed in the room he had been given, his legs stretched out and one of Charlie's fantasy novels lying forgotten in his lap. He absently traced the lines on the cover. There had been hope that the calm and quiet of the space would allow his thoughts to settle, but to no avail.

A light tap on his door caught his attention. Sam stood there, the long form of him filling the doorway. "Hey. Mind some company?"

Gadreel gave a slight shake of his head. "Not at all."

Sam smiled softly and came to sit next to him on the bed. Gadreel shifted over to give him more room, but the bed was small enough that their shoulders still pressed firmly together. The point of contact was a comfort to Gadreel, and Sam did not seem to mind.

"So, how are you holding up?"

Sam's concern was just as touching now as it had been when he had been Gadreel's vessel. He leaned a bit to press more heavily against Sam, and thought about his reply. "Well enough, I think. I am eager to see Gabriel again, but I am also . . . _anxious._ I am not the same as I was."

Sam nodded slowly, acknowledging his concern. "To be fair, neither is he."

This was true. Gabriel had carved a name for himself among the pagans, becoming a god in his own right. He became Loki. To have hidden so completely from the Host, he would have had to embrace the lifestyle completely. That didn't bother Gadreel as much as he thought it should, but it was still something to consider.

"Regardless of any persona he claims, any dark deeds he's done, I could never love him any less."

Sam let loose a loud exhale. His arm lifted to drape over Gadreel's shoulder, the palm coming to rest over his heart. Gadreel let himself relax into the embrace, and the two of them sat in companionable silence.

This reminded him of when Sam's soul would brush along his grace whenever fear would grip him. It was warm, affectionate, and comforting, and Gadreel basked in it.

Eventually, Charlie came to the door. "Hey guys, Dean called. We're good to go!"

Sam gave him a light tap on his chest and caught his eyes. Even though he no longer had a direct connection to Sam's thoughts, he knew what he was asking.

 _Are you ready?_

Gadreel grabbed his hand and squeezed once before pulling away to stand. "Alright. Let us go."

 **oOoOo**

That night was as dark as they come. Besides being the night after the new moon, thick clouds had rolled in sometime during the evening, so not even the stars glinted in the sky. Juse and endless stretch of deep and oppressive darkness. For the sake of protecting all their meticulous work, the surrounding black was held at bay by several old lanterns, borrowed from one of the bunker's many storage rooms and strategically placed around them.

The last thing anyone wanted to do was damage any of the lines. After all, if that happened, they would have to wait an entire month before they could try again.

Placed at the heart of the clearing was a large diagram. Composed of several large interlocking circles and hundreds of looping scripts and symbols, it was over twelve yards across and all of it precisely laid in white paint.

Kevin stood at its outer edge, in one of the smaller circles, mixing ingredients slowly into a silver bowl as he confidently recited the incantation, the words swift and sure. It was all in the harsh tones of Enochian, but Kevin had taken it upon himself to memorize it all, with a little coaching from both Gadreel and Castiel to perfect his pronunciation.

Gadreel's position was in a larger circle directly across from the prophet. He stood as still as possible, arms held slightly away from his body. He was bare from the waist up, allowing Sam and Castiel easy access to his arms and shoulders. They stood on either side of him, working in tandem to paint more Enochian on his flesh with crude brushes made from yew. The concoction of bloodroot, Phoenix ash, and holy water felt thick and heavy on his skin, making him resist the urge to shudder.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gadreel caught Dean and Charlie prowling the edges of the clearing. They were guarding the perimeter, and therefore the wards, but remained close enough to be useful should they have need of them.

Sam and Castiel finished as Kevin neared the end of the spell, the two of them quickly stepped out of Gadreel's circle, taking care not to smudge anything as they went.

Kevin lit a match as the last word fell from his lips, and dropped it into the bowl. Smoke plumed up in a thick cloud, and then a blinding light which burst and sent out a shockwave in its wake.

There was a heavy beat of silence as the clearing fell still. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, and the only thing Gadreel could hear was the thundering of his own heartbeat.

Then there was a tug on Gadreel's grace, somewhere below his breastbone, making him gasp and clutch at his chest. That tug steadily became a pull, the draw becoming so tight and harsh that he trembled under the tension of it.

Vaguely, he was aware of his knees hitting the dirt, and Castiel calling his name in alarm. There were hands on either side of him, touching his arms, his shoulders, supporting and steadying him.

That pull was now vibrating through his bones, calling, singing, summoning particles and essence long lost to the void of oblivion.

And then the pull went slack and light flared once more.

Gadreel could only breath, slow and deep in an effort to collect himself.

One set of hands left him. The jeans and boots that passed in front of him told him it was Sam, veering somewhere to the left where Gadreel knew Dean was stationed.

Worried about the outcome, Gadreel lifted his eyes and-

And there was Gabriel, standing casually at the very center of the diagram.

 _There was Gabriel._

He stood with his back to Gadreel, so close that the air caught in his lungs, and tears pooled hot and stinging behind his eyes.

None of the humans could see, but all of his wings were outstretched and testing their movement. He was golden and glorious, with ripples of emerald green through his grace that could only be his pagan magic.

 _Oh Father_ , he was even more beautiful than he remembered. The very sight of him made him _ache_.

Gabriel was patting his vessel down in self-examination. He worked his hands open and closed before shaking them out at the wrist. "Yeowch! Becoming a kebab on your own weapon? _So_ not recommended!"

"Getting ganked at all is not recommended," Dean said, tone dry.

Gadreel staggered to his feet with Castiel's help, his eyes tracking to follow Gabriel's line of sight. Sam and Dean were standing shoulder to shoulder, with Charlie and Kevin moving to stand beside them.

"Well, well, well. Isn't _this_ the motley crew!" Gabriel rolled his neck, resulting in a dramatic _pop_. "We have the Brothers Grimm, one of daddy-dearest's prized prophets, and . . ." He paused at Charlie. "Who are you sweetcheeks? Cheering squad?"

Charlie looked livid, and took an angry step forward. Kevin and Dean each grabbed an arm as they were closest. " _Excuse you_! Angel, Demi-god, _whatever_ -" She pointed a finder at him. "I'll still kick your butt!"

"Oh, I _like_ you kid. You're spunky."

"Charlie," Dean warned. "Let it go."

"Oh, will you yahoos re _lax_. I'm not gonna smite anyone in the Scooby Gang, especially when they just brought me back." He made a show of gesturing at the diagram surrounding them all, then his hands buried themselves in his jacket pockets. He rocked back on his heels. "Well. Thanks and all that jazz, but I can't help but be suspicious. The Apocalypse isn't still on, is it?"

"Nope. Sammy officially ground that one to a halt. But-"

"Gabriel."

The compact form of him turned, his posture all bravado and loose limbs.

That is, until their eyes met, and his expression fractured like glass as recognition hit. His body remained still, but those golden irises grew wide, and his wings flared, clearly startled. His stare traveled from Gadreel to just over his shoulder.

The tightening grip on his bicep reminded him that Castiel had never left his side.

 _Oh_.

Gabriel's mask was on the verge of breaking, and Gadreel knew he wouldn't want anyone else to see it.

He softly touched Castiel's hand, silently asking him to let go. "Would you all mind giving Gabriel and I a moment?"

"Of course Gadreel." And with that his fledgling stepped away, and joined the others.

Sam looked pointedly at Gadreel. "Remember that the wards are probably down. See you at home?"

Gadreel couldn't resist a warm smile and a nod. "We should not be too long."

And with that, the five of them gathered up a couple of lanterns and walked off into the tree line and back towards the bunker.

Gabriel remained frozen where he was. His feet seemed rooted to the spot, and his eyes were glued to where the others had disappeared into the night. Gadreel regained his attention only when he approached. Gabriel's eyes were half wild, and almost panicked. But there was hope there too. The words, when they came, were halting, and no more than a thick whisper. "How did they . . . and Cas, he . . . does he- does he know?"

Oh, but this was a hurt Gadreel knew all too well. His grace thrummed with sympathy. "No," he answered gently. He reached out to hold Gabriel's face between his palms, his thumbs brushing away the tears he found there. "No he doesn't. But he knows _me_ , and it is enough."

Next thing Gadreel knew, he was engulfed in a cocoon of golden feathers. His mate's arms had wrapped tightly around him, fingers clawing at bare shoulders, no doubt smudging the Enochian written there. Instinct told him to release his wings as well, to tuck and fold them under the canopy of Gabriel's larger wingspan, but he didn't. Couldn't. Instead, he drew him closer, and buried his face in his hair to hide his own tears, and to reassure himself with touch and smell that Gabriel was actually _here_.

"I'm dreaming," Gabriel choked, and then he began to babble in a way he only did when he was truly upset and had a hard time processing it. "I gotta be. Or I'm still dead, and this is some sort of afterlife that Pops never bothered telling us about. But that can't be, 'cause I don't- after _everything_ I've done, everything I _failed to do_ , I don't- you can't-"

"Shh, beloved," Gadreel murmured, reaching out with his grace and sending _love forgiveness reassurance pride_ along the connection there. "Do not blame yourself for the wrongdoing of others. You did what you could." He stroked a hand through his hair, smoothing the strands back. "More importantly, you protected our flock when they could not protect themselves. You gave them a glimmer of hope when they had none, and because of that they were able to achieve the impossible."

A chuckle vibrated against his chest. "Careful babe, it almost sounds like you went and adopted the Winchesters."

"Strange," Gadreel said slowly, amusement curling just below the surface. "It was my understanding that you adopted them first."

Full laughter this time, though a touch hysterical. "I think you're mistaking me for our rebellious offspring." His head rose then, a frown marring his face and he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "Speaking of . . . last I saw of Castiel, he was well on his way to fallen. How is he like _that_?"

Gadreel knew what he meant. Not human, but not a full angel, not at the moment anyway. His mate wouldn't like the truth, but Gadreel had never kept things from Gabriel when it concerned their fledgling, and he wasn't about to start now. Even so, it took a moment for him to find the proper words. The image of Castiel dead and broken still haunted him.

"Much has happened since your passing," Gadreel told him quietly, his thumbs making soothing circles on the side of Gabriel's neck, though which one of them he was comforting, he did not know. "The same event that resulted in my freedom left Castiel human. When the Winchesters and I found him he was, he was . . ." His throat closed around the words, and he couldn't say it. "I restored him as much as I could. But between healing Sam as well as myself, I did not have much grace left to give."

Gabriel, for all his jokes, and his cavalier disposition, had always been rather perceptive when it came to the actions and reactions of others. It had probably been an invaluable trait during his time as Loki. Even now, Gadreel could see his mate reading between the lines. Assessing and gauging the damage. He wrapped his fingers around Gadreel's wrists, squeezing gently. "How long has it been since Luci took me off the board?"

Gadreel bent down to place a tender kiss to Gabriel's hair before resting their foreheads together. He let his grace brush up along the length of Gabriel's, seeking affirmation and comfort.

"Four years," he breathed. "Almost five."

"Damn." One hand came up to touch Gadreel's cheek, and he he couldn't help but lean into the caress. His grace mimicked the motion, offering assurance and a growing sense of calm. "I guess it's high time we get me caught up, huh?"

 **oOoOo**

 **Author's Note** : Finally, the reunion we've all been waiting for! I can't count how many times a rewrote and rehashed their meeting, I wanted it to feel natural, and I think this is as close as I'm gonna get. For those wondering where Gabriel's head was at before he died (therefore, were his most recent thoughts before being brought back) then I highly recommend you go read Failure. It's a very short prequel, and it gives you a good idea of his mindframe when he faced down Lucifer.

For those who took the time to review, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I'm having a rough patch IRL right now, and focusing on this fic, even sporadically, has helped me keep from flying apart at the seams. Reading your thoughts and comments help. And thank you my quiet lurkers as well. I see you all, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story. As always, if you want to hit me up, you can pester me here, or over at my Tumblr (sharysisnhmoonshadow).

Happy Reading everybody!- Shadow


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Kevin retreated to his room as soon as they returned to the bunker, muttering something about writing notes before shuffling off. As he spoke, the kid held that focused gleam in his eye that told Sam that he wasn't getting any sleep tonight. Sam made a mental note to check on him before turning in himself, whenever that would be.

Charlie offered to stay up with the rest of them, but Dean was the one to wave her off. There was no point in having everyone dead on their feet tomorrow.

And so, the remaining three all migrated to the kitchen to wait for Gadreel and Gabriel.

Cas and Sam had taken up residence at the table, the two of them sitting quietly across from each other while Dean was messing with something on the stove.

Sam was slumped forward, elbows on the table and chin propped up with one hand, thoughts drifting back to the ritual. When Gadreel buckled at the end of it fear had gripped his heart and _squeezed_ , and for one horrible moment he had thought the worst. But the ritual had worked, for once exactly as intended.

Gadreel had his family back.

If Sam didn't know the truth, and hadn't been looking for it, he would have completely missed Gabriel's reaction to seeing Gad and Cas side by side. It was a blink-then-you'd-miss-it shift, but it was there.

When Cas called Gadreel by name . . .

There were no words in Sam's vocabulary to properly describe the expression on the Archangel's face right then.

"Here Cas."

Sam watched from across the table as his brother handed off a steaming mug, and Cas gave it a sniff. "This doesn't smell like coffee."

"'Cause it's not. It's cocoa, man. Drink up, you'll like it." Dean handed Sam a mug next and Sam offered a smile before taking a careful sip. His brother just nodded and returned to the stove.

Dean was pouring the remaining cocoa into two additional mugs when Gadreel stepped in, followed closely by Gabriel.

The archangel twirled a finger in the air, gesturing to the Bunker as a whole. "Some digs you got here boys. Do you know how hard it is to hide things from a fine specimen such as myself?" He whistled lowly. "Impressive."

"Has it's perks," Dean said shortly. He grabbed the mugs and came over to press one into Gadreel's hands. "Here Zeke."

Gadreel gave Dean one of his soft smiles. "Thank you, Dean."

"Hey, where's mine?"

"Make your own."

"Aw, but Deano, I thought we had something special!"

Dean ignored Gabriel to settle himself next to Cas.

Gabriel rolled his eyes at Dean's back then snapped up his own mug of cocoa, complete with whip cream and sprinkles.

Gadreel and Sam shared fond and exasperated looks in turn. Everyone settled in at the table, though Gabriel didn't sit so much as sprawl across his chair with his feet crossed and propped up on an empty seat. Sam didn't miss the elbow resting casually on the back of Gadreel's chair. His fingers were tracing the smudged sigils on one bare shoulder while the taller angel sipped his cocoa.

"Now that we're all gathered in your super secret lair, maybe one of you boneheads can get me up to speed. So!" Gabriel rolled a hand. "Recap me!"

Everyone exchanged a look, but it was Sam that spoke first. "We need you to promise something first."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Not even back from the dead for an hour and already making demands? Wow. Is that a record?"

"All of us sitting here have made some rather poor choices in our effort to do the right thing. Some of those choices have had some catastrophic consequences. We've done the best we can to fix things. We've fucked up. We know it, and we don't need more guilt heaped onto any of us."

Gabriel tilted his head aggressively, clearly gearing up for a bitter response. Gadreel brought him in by stilling the hand on his shoulder. "He means me as well."

Something twisted in Gabriel's face, but he made a good effort at hiding it with levity. "Sweetheart, the Garden was _ages_ ago! You can't possibly-"

"Gabriel," Gad interrupted gently. "Sam was my vessel until very recently. The circumstances leading to that were . . . less than favorable."

Gabriel's expression blanked. Amber eyes landed on Sam with all the intensity of a hawk. Sam refused to squirm, but it was a very near thing.

"We had a rough start," Sam said simply, then he shrugged. "Worked out though. So here's the thing. We'll catch you up, but no comments until we get you current. Alright?"

"Why do I have a feeling I'm gonna need something stronger than chocolate," Gabriel muttered. He sighed, then settled back in his chair. He lifted his mug at Sam. "Fine. I promise. Not a peep until you guys are done. You may proceed."

They all took their turns telling the story. When one of them had a difficult time finding the words someone else would pick up where they left off. It wasn't the super detailed version that Sam gave Gadreel, but then again Gabriel was more than capable of filling in the blanks himself. He knew them well enough.

And Gabriel was true to his word. He was utterly silent for the entire thing.

In a lot of ways Sam found that absolutely terrifying.

When it was all said and done Gabriel stared at them all for a long moment. And then with an eerie amount of calm he addressed the room. "Okay, here's what's gonna happen. All of you-" He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, "are gonna go get some sleep before ya fall down. Tomorrow we are gonna put our heads together and figure out a game plan to get Heaven and Hell back in line." Then the familiar trickster smirk slid back into place as he sing-songed a cheery "See you in the morning kids!"

Then he disappeared from the room.

"Did he just skip out on us?" Dean asked incredulously.

"No," Gadreel assured. "He did not go far."

"In that case how about we take his suggestion and call it a night?" Sam chipped in.

"It has been an extremely long and trying day for everyone," Cas said as he rose from his seat "I think sleep would be a good idea."

"Alright then." Sam waved off his brother when he went to collect empty mugs. "I got cleanup, Dean. Don't worry about it."

Dean shrugged then stretched as he stood. "Suit yourself. Goodnight."

"Goodnight guys."

Dean and Cas both left the kitchen.

Sam took that as his que and started gathering up mugs to put them in the sink along with the other dishes Dean used to make the cocoa. By the time he started washing, Gadreel appeared next to him with a rag and started drying the dishes Sam handed to him.

"Are you sure he didn't take off?" Sam asked. Not that he actually doubted Gadreel, but, well . . . _Gabriel_.

"Like I said before, he did not go far. Gabriel is currently pacing on the roof." Gadreel glanced up towards the ceiling, then gave a small huff and a half smile. "The behavior is actually reassuring."

"Old habit, huh?"

"Something along those lines, yes."

The silence that fell between them was comfortable and familiar.

"You don't need to keep me company," Sam said eventually, bumping Gadreel's side with his arm. "I'm sure you'd rather be spending time with someone else."

Gadreel gave a rueful smile. "Gabriel needs some time to process. He will come find me when he is ready."

"Still anxious?"

"A bit," he admitted quietly. "But he's here. I can reach out with my grace and I can feel him reaching back. That in itself is so very reassuring."

"I'm glad things are finally looking up for you, Gad. This family needs a little more good happening to it."

Sam knew that if he was still playing host to Gadreel, warmth would have bloomed beneath his ribs and spread to fill his entire body. Seeing that feeling translated into a facial expression was just as good.

 **oOoOo**

Gadreel and Sam eventually parted ways. Sam mentioned that he wanted to check in on Kevin before heading to bed himself, and Gadreel realized he was very much in need of a shower. He had almost forgotten about the ash painted across his skin.

As the water ran down his back and shoulders, Gadreel kept careful tabs on where Gabriel was. He was still close by, but he had migrated from pacing the roof to prowling the perimeter of the Bunker.

In all honesty, there had been a moment when Gadreel worried that Gabriel would not stay. When Gabriel had first left the room he had been on the verge of exploding from sheer _rage_. He hid it very well, as his control was impeccable, but Gadreel could tell it was barely being contained. There had been a split second where Gadreel worried that it had been to much for his mate to deal with, and that now that he had taken wing he would keep on flying . . .

And then Gabriel's voice had filtered down through their bond, probably as he screamed from the rooftop-

 _I'm gonna KILL that jumped up librarian!_

Gadreel remembered what he told Metatron when the scribe failed to sway him to his side. He had told Metatron how Gabriel would have responded to his actions, and it would seem that he would soon discover that for himself.

Gadreel finished his shower and retreated to his room.

He pulled on one of Sam's t-shirts and a loose pair of sweatpants and settled in to wait for Gabriel to calm himself enough to come back inside. Charlie's novel was still sitting on his nightstand, and so he picked it up and began to read.

Just as he was finishing chapter two there was a soft pulse of grace and a flutter of wings heralding Gabriel's landing. Gadreel let his book fall shut and returned it to the nightstand.

The rage had abated, but it was clear that Gabriel was still agitated. The moment he landed he began exploring Gadreel's room, but as Gadreel had just moved in, there wasn't really anything of interest. Gabriel's feathers were ruffled and his wings refused to settle, constantly shifting against each other.

"I'm sorry."

As soon as he spoke he had Gabriel's full attention.

"I'm so sorry." Gadreel slid to the side of the bed, feet on the floor and hands rubbing nervously at his knees. He swallowed hard as his uncertainty crept back over him. "There is so much that has happened, and we are dragging you right into it and-"

"Hey, now, none of that." In an instant Gabriel was before him, and had a hand in Gadreel's hair. His main set of wings spread a bit to shelter them both. "Now who's blaming themselves, huh? I made my choice the day I told Lucifer where he could stick it. Okay? I'm just glad you survived the Fall. It sounds like a bunch of our brothers didn't."

Gadreel nodded, remembering. "Their voices were so loud. No one was sure what was happening, but so many were quick to lay blame. It was complete chaos and so many were furious. So when Dean prayed . . ."

"You knew he was gonna attract all the wrong sorts of attention."

"I could guess. I thought perhaps I could help. Or at least provide a distraction for their escape." He pursed his lips. "I did not expect Sam's condition to be so dire. But I could not just leave after giving Dean my word."

"From what I gathered, you were in pretty bad shape yourself." Gabriel paused. "That why you're hiding your wings?"

Gadreel's heart sank and he ducked his head.

"Let me see them."

He could only shake his head, two sharp, jerky movements. Heat was pooling behind his eyes, and there was a painful lump in his throat keeping him from speaking. He couldn't do it, couldn't tarnish his mate's memory of them. He had been glorious once, almost as bright as the archangels, and just as beautiful. He couldn't.

Gabriel's hands slid gently under his chin, cupping his jaw, urging him to meet his gaze. Gold irises found him, expression soft and imploring. "Gadreel. Please. Let me see."

Tears spilling over, Gadreel leaned forward to bury his face in Gabriel's chest. Though Gabriel's vessel was so much slighter than his own, when his arms wrapped around him, fingers carding through his hair, he still felt encompassed by him.

There was a time when Gadreel honestly believed that nothing could keep them apart, that as long as they stood side by side there could be nothing wrong with the universe. He knew better now, knew how untrue that was, but oh how he wished he could go back to that, to not be this scared and broken thing he had become.

Time and pain had changed them both, and he wasn't sure how to move forward.

But he knew hiding from Gabriel wouldn't do anyone any favors.

Heart heavy and throat tight, Gadreel spread the ruined canvas his wings had become, bringing them forth to a more visible plane.

There was a sharp inhale, paired with a hand tightening in his hair, before quickly soothing the scalp with deft fingers.

"May I touch them?"

Even as Gadreel started at the request, because who would _want_ to touch them when they looked like this, Gabriel's grace reached out to him. Assurances lapped at him through their connection, thoughts warm with concern and intent. _Want to touch, need to see, I can tell you're in pain._

Gadreel felt himself go boneless with relief, accepting the brush against his grace as he sank into the more physical sensation of hands on his vessel. His vocal cords still constricted, Gadreel settled his own hands over the points of Gabriel's hips, grasping at the denim, and spread his wings a bit wider and held them aloft. Deliberately making it a point to place them within easy reach.

Last time Gabriel had seen them, his wings had been magnificent. The feathers had been full and mostly dark, rich with blue that spanned the full spectrum and speckled with other colors. Nebulous wisps of purples and pinks, and dots of white and yellow, all spiraled together into a mass of constellations. Gabriel had once insisted that Father had modeled a whole galaxy after the pattern swirled within his wings. Gadreel hadn't believed him, but he had been flattered nonetheless.

But his wings hadn't been that beautiful in millennia due to his time in Heaven's prison, and the damage had been made all the worse by the Fall.

Much of the flesh had been stripped away, in some parts right down to the bone, revealing fragments of the Fading silencing sigils carved along the surface. The remaining feathers were sparse and dull, many scorched and brittle to the point of crumbling. A few vibrant blue feathers had emerged in the coverts, the result of his time spent recuperating with the Winchesters.

They would heal, with time, but the damage was extreme and scars would remain as eternal proof of his history.

Hands ghosted down his shoulder to the wing proper, palm pressing down gently but firmly on a section that was more intact than the rest. Gabriel's grace seeped into the the joint, warm and comforting, and spread through the entire limb, dialing down their sensitivity by absorbing the pain into itself. Gadreel gasped in sheer relief, not realizing, truly, how great his pain threshold had become until it was numbed away.

After the process had been repeated with the other wing he wept openly.

When he was done, Gabriel climbed into Gadreel's lap and wrapped himself tightly around him. This time, when his mate's wings draped around him Gadreel did not hesitate to do the same.

They remained wrapped around each other for the rest of the night.

 **oOoOo**

 **Author's Note:** Hello all! It's been a while, but I've been busy! Ive been on a massive writing kick, but it's been spread over a multitude of projects. Still In Hell, and The Gift are getting some attention, but I also have a new Assassin's Creed fic in the works called The Anchor and the Catalyst (I am not posting that one until it's complete).

But I have a PRESENT FOR YOU GUYS!

To celebrate one of my favorite Holidays I'll be posting a one shot on Halloween that you guys might like. It's a Gift AU that takes place a few years down the line. There's no real spoilers for the climax of the main story, and it was just a fun "What If" that I thought I'd share.

It's called 'Definitions of Family", so keep an eye out for it on Tuesday and tell me what you think!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Sam ambled into the kitchen at about noon the next day, blindly following the enticing smell of bacon, coffee, and . . . pancakes? Sam didn't want to know how little sleep Dean got last night to be making that kind of spread, because Sam was certain that pickings were pretty slim in the fridge yesterday. So, if Dean was cooking, that means he went shopping first.

But Dean wasn't the one actually cooking.

Gabriel was zipping about the kitchen, talking a mile a minute about pancakes and crepes and the merits of both. Gadreel was quietly observing from his seat, hands neatly folded together and resting on the table. The angel's entire posture was relaxed and open, and he was listening to Gabriel with this soft, indulgent smile that Sam had never seen before.

It was a good look on Gadreel.

Suppressing a smile of his own, Sam cleared his throat, even though he had no doubt both angels already knew he was there. "Hey guys," he greeted, then raised an eyebrow. "Breakfast for lunch?"

"Hey now!" Gabriel turned to brandish a whisk at him, batter dripping everywhere as he used it to emphasize his words. "Breakfast is a valid meal at any hour, and don't you forget it! Besides, it has come to my attention that you've been neglecting my Mate! How, after all this time, has he never had crepes? You uncultured heathens!"

Gadreel's lips twitched a bit higher and he gave Sam a sidelong glance. "I see that Gabriel's flare for the dramatic is still very much present."

Sam snorted as he went to go fix himself a cup of coffee. "And here I assumed that was something he learned as Loki. So much for that theory."

"No fair!" Gabriel whined. "No ganging up on the recently dead guy!"

"Man, if we followed that rule we'd never have any fun," Dean's voice deadpanned. Sam looked over his shoulder to see his robe-clad brother shuffle into the kitchen looking rumpled and still half asleep. There was this glorious moment where Dean blinked and actually took in his surroundings. "Oh, Hell no! You are not messing around with my kitchen!"

" _Your_ kitchen huh?" Gabriel grinned. "Chill out Dean-bean. I promise it'll be spotless when I'm through."

"Screw that, move over."

And that was how Dean and Gabriel teamed up to cook the largest breakfast Sam had ever seen. It had been awhile since Dean had someone new to impress with his cooking. And Gabriel was impressed, especially after learning that he only had a little prior experience. The two of them might have gotten a touch competitive as a result.

Gadreel seemed very pleased about the whole thing, and Sam was right there with him. The two of them shared amused looks as Gabriel and Dean bantered as they elbowed each other out of their respective work spaces.

It wasn't long before the smell of fresh food lured the remaining residents into the kitchen. Kevin and Cas both looked dead on their feet but Charlie was abnormally chipper even before she helped herself to coffee.

Once everyone was seated and well on their way through their second plate (or third in Dean's case) Gabriel finally addressed the room.

"Okay, now that the Knights of the Round Table have assembled, let's get right to it. So. Between Metatron and Abaddon, who's the more immediate threat?" Gabriel swept a hand. "Discuss."

"Well, currently, Metatron's actions have lead to more death and destruction," Castiel answered promptly, then stabbed another piece of crepe on his fork.

"True," Dean allowed, then continued after a beat. "But Abaddon is restructuring Hell from the ground up. She's powerful, pissed, and not playing by any of the old rules. Plus we already know she's willing to take intel from Metatron, so who's to say she won't return the favor?"

"And that's the last thing we need while dealing with Metatron," Sam added, polishing off the last bit of food on his plate. "Everyone who knows that Gabriel is back is sitting in this room. If we play our cards right, that could be the Ace up our sleeve."

Gabriel tilted his chair back as he tapped a fork against his lips, humming thoughtfully. "I'm all for pushing back my big resurrection announcement, at least for the moment. I have a few ideas for dealing with the Host, but I would rather act on it when we're actually going after Metadick. So, it looks like we're going after Abbie!" He let his chair fall forward with a _thump_. "Only one problem with that. If we take her out, that leaves a power vacuum in Hell, and we might have bigger problems as a result. Sure, Hell's a hot mess, but it's always less problematic with a leader."

Sam and Dean shared a look over the table.

Dean clapped his hands together with a laugh and then drummed them on the table. His grin was ridiculously pleased. "As it so happens, we have the perfect candidate in-house!"

 **oOoOo**

Crowley was bored.

Such was life these days, chained and shackled as he was. That it was the _Winchesters_ who held him here only rubbed salt into the wound.

When those lumbering Neanderthals first brought him to this charming little playhouse, he had assumed that they would want something from him. A little torture, perhaps a little bit of bargaining, but eventually they would ask for _something_.

They _should_ have asked for something.

But the only activity he'd seen during his entire stay had been within those first couple of days.

Kevin had been fun to play with. The prophet had been easy to bait, and delightful to rile. Making the boy come apart and become violent had been satisfying in it's own way. It was a shame it didn't last longer. His emotions made him malleable, and Crowley was certain he had planted the seeds of doubt in Kevin's mind. By questioning his usefulness and his standing with the Winchesters, perhaps Crowley could have twisted that doubt and use it to his advantage.

Hot on the heels of that little encounter, Moose and Squirrel themselves paid him a visit. Thanks to Kevin, he knew that they were having difficulties with Abbadon. He had thrown them a bone, giving him the names of two of his less useful demons, to display his willingness to play ball.

If Kevin didn't pan out, there was always a chance with these two morons.

But they never came back, and Crowley was stuck down here.

Wherever _here_ actually was.

Oh, occasionally he could hear the Winchesters rummaging around beyond his prison, but he could yell and scream all the insults he wanted, they never reacted to him.

And so, Crowley was _bored_.

There was nothing to distract him, and nothing to look at besides the walls and the wards. There was nothing to distract him from his thoughts, and honestly, his thoughts were right poor company these days.

His brush with humanity still lingered like a parasite he couldn't kill. It clawed at him whenever he let his thoughts stray too far, and sometimes he swore he could still feel it crawling just beneath the skin of his meatsuit.

Crowley was bored and would give just about anything for a distraction.

"You know, I thought you were into classier joints than this."

There was a sharp snap, and suddenly Crowley's prison was bathed in warm light.

Well. How was that for a distraction?

Someone was leaning against the wall to his right, casual as you please, and settled there like he had been there for hours, not seconds. He held a large bag of M&Ms in one hand as the other noisily rummaged in the plastic and poured a handful of candy into his waiting mouth. Cheeks bulging, he gestured to the room with his bag of sweets. "Not judging, but the the ambiance down here is a bit grim for my taste. Grey and grungy is _so_ not my scene." With an easy snap of fingers and a flare of old magic, an overstuffed armchair appeared, facing Crowley. His visitor sprawled across the freshly created furniture. "Mmm, still looks like a bad BDSM club, but well, what can you do?"

"I imagine you could do quite a lot," Crowley noted, aiming for a touch of flattery. Whoever this was, they managed to get past the insanely complex wards of this place. Undetected, if the lack of noise from the outside world was any indication. Maybe he could take advantage. "I on the other hand, not so much at the moment." He wiggled his fingers to emphasize his predicament. "As you can see."

"Rankles, doesn't it?" The creature shaped like a man gave a jolly grin as he tossed another M&M into his mouth. "A Hellspawn Bigwig like you, trapped by a couple of _hunters_! Man, that's gotta sting!"

Now that was a just rude.

His eyes narrowed. "The Winchester's are more than just _hunters_. They are a bloody aberration! And who are you to judge me? I am the King of Hell!"

" _Are_ you now?" He arched one eyebrow and looked around. He grabbed another handful of candy. "Looks to me that you're currently the King of the Dungeon. And, honestly, not in the fun way." He tossed a single piece up in the air and caught it with his mouth. "And, by the way? I've had my fair share of run-ins with the wonder twins. Want them off your back? Pretend to let them kill you. Usually does the trick."

He'd keep that in mind, but hiding like a scared rat usually wasn't his style. Now, revenge and retribution, all carefully planned with a brutal and bloody execution? Much better in his opinion.

Seeing as he wasn't getting anywhere, Crowley decided to cut to the chase. "Did you waltz down here just to poke fun, or did you actually have a point?"

Another snap and the bag of candy was replaced by an obscenely large Icee. Promptly, his visitor proceeded to slurp it in the most obnoxious way possible.

Crowley kept his eye from twitching, but only just barely. "Well?"

" _Well_ ," he drew the word out, and rolled his eyes. "Word on the street is that Hell is under new management, and the new Queen is ruffling a lot of feathers. Killing people, pissing people off, overall, just bad business." He took another slurp. "Ya with me so far?"

Crowley raised his brows. "And?"

"And what would you say to getting your throne back?"

"I would say that you want something in return," Crowley replied promptly. He wasn't stupid, after all.

His visitor smiled around his straw, showing teeth. It was a fox's smile, amused and mischievous. Whoever Crowley was dealing with, he was very dangerous. "Got me! But it's a small thing, really. After all, the benefits on your end are already looking pretty sweet. A Get-Out-Of-Jail card, for one. Then there's having your kingdom back at your fingertips."

"And that would be . . . what?"

"You and yours are not allowed to bother me 'n mine." He lifted his Icee and quirked an eyebrow. "Simple right?"

It was too simple. Deals this simple left far too many holes in the contract. He should know, he had made an art of exploiting such holes.

However, he did want out of these chains.

"Simple enough," Crowley allowed. "But before we make anything official, I would like to know who I'm striking a deal with. There are still rules after all."

"The name's Loki." The name rang with truth and an undeniable pulse of pagan magic.

Immediately Crowley began putting the pieces together. Many pagan deities had gone to ground in the wake of the Apocalypse, all of them roaches scattering from the exterminator. Having more than half of your pantheon slaughtered like cattle would certainly do that, and many had spent the time since licking their wounds. Crowley's sources had given him a list of the known casualties from that day. Many major players were wiped clear off the map, and Crowley had been under the impression that Loki had been one of them.

But, if he was to be believed, Loki had experience in faking his own demise. Stands to reason that the god wanted to protect what little was left of his people.

In any case, it was best to clarify such things.

"Were you expecting immunity for all your pagan pals, or just the measly remnants of your pantheon?" Crowley inquired cooly.

Loki waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, please! Nothing that extensive. Whatever Thor's doing these days, he and the others are on their own! But I do have a small circle of individual's I'm running with there days. They've been very useful to me and I'd be rather salty if something were to happen to them." The fox grin morphed into the intense stare of a wolf. "I protect what's mine."

"In that case, we have a deal."

"Fantastic!" Loki crowed, all smiles once more. He leapt off his seat, and with one final snap he was now holding a contract in place of his Icee and was twirling a pen in his free hand. "You Demons are all about paperwork, right?"

"Or you could always just pucker up."

"Aw, thats cute, but I'm allergic to the taste of sulfur. Plus, you're not my type."

Crowley just shrugged. "Suit yourself."

The contract was quickly signed by both parties, Crowley first, then Loki, and instantly it began to glow in the way that magically binding contracts often do. With a flick of his wrist, the paper rolled itself up and smacked itself neatly into Loki's waiting hand. "So, before I remove all these nasty wards and we get cracking on removing the current Queen, let me introduce you to that little group I mentioned."

The dungeon doors swung open to reveal the motley group waiting on the other side.

Only then did Crowley realize his mistake.

God damn _Winchesters_.

 **oOoOo**

 **Author's Note:** Happy New Year everyone! I hope 2018 is off to a great start for you. Anyway, I'm sorry this chapter took as long as it did. Honestly, it was Crowley's fault. I'd never written from his POV before and I wanted to do him justice. In true King of Hell fashion, he was a pain to write the entire time and I'm so thankful that this is the only section from his POV. With this chapter, you guys should know that we are nearing the homestretch here. There's only a handful of chapters left to go, if my notes stay true, and I hope you guys keep enjoying it right up to the end! Until next time, Happy Reading! -Shadow


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